Five Nights at Freddy's: Shadow Wars
by Christian Knight
Summary: AU: Mike Schmidt is a Black Ops government agent, the best in the business. But when his last mission goes wrong, he is sent stateside to solve a psychotic murder spree that is too big for the police to handle. Has he finally met his match as he faces old & new foes and unveils secrets that may very well change the world? Mike X fem Foxy
1. Chapter 1

**AN: 1) This contains action/friendship/mystery, maybe some romance and bits of horror towards the end.**

**2) In this story Chica and Bonnie are female (Possibly Foxy as well but still deciding)**

**3) There may be scenes of intense violence and action**

**4) If you are waiting for my other fics I am still working on them, but this just pop in my head one night so I decided to write it down, it has been on my mind ever since (If its of any comfort to my Halo readers, I'm making progress on the next chapter of "Unexpected Alliance")**

**5) I've never played Five nights at Freddy's (Which I do not own) but I have been reading fics on site and using Wikipedia so it should be accurate, but this is a AU remember.**

**6) The cover for the fic will make sense as the story progresses along (I do not own the image)**

**7) Thanks for reading and I hope you will enjoy.**

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**Five Nights at Freddy's: Shadow Wars**

**One.**

Mike Schmidt silently waits in the dimly lit room as moon light filters through the window blind and add a bluish hue to the office. The single lamp on the desk he is sitting in front of provides only the faintest of illuminations, leaving the rest of the small room shrouded in shadows. There wasn't much inside, the décor isn't something to brag about, there are no personal affects like most offices would have and the one other thing that contribute to the abnormality of the situation is the nine millimeter handgun resting on the desk.

However Mike wasn't eyeing the weapon, instead he is staring at his Pad that is propped in his lap while listening to it using earbuds that are connected to the device. He is watching a news channel that is airing on the internet as it shows images of a grisly sight.

"_Russian officials still has the Grafov train station under guard as police and government agents work around the clock in their investigation on the hideous crime scene_," a female news anchor report.

A slide comes up next showing the outside of a large building as helicopters, police men and firefighters rush around the structure while a crowd of civilians watch from the opposite side of a flimsy yellow tape barrier.

"_It has been almost a day since the deadly shooting has occurred and there is still little to nothing that has been revealed to the public_."

Mike's face stiffens as he listens to the unfolding story.

"_What we do know for certain though is that at approximately 4:19, Eastern Standard Time, a deadly break out of violence has taken place that had claimed the lives of sixteen people and seriously injured another twenty four bystanders."_

Mike grinds his teeth at the release of the numbers. The day before he counted twelve, there must have been more people who got hit that he didn't see, who could blame him though? Who could have seen through the chaos as the world burned around him?

_"The Russian government makes no other comments aside from condolences they give to the grieving families of the deceased," _next comes a clip of men, women, and children crying and consumed with misery at the news_, "aside from promise of retaliation, it is still unclear who is responsible. Now we go live to our Russian corresponder that is in Moscow as he watches first-hand what is happening half a world away."_

The scene flickers to a man wearing a heavy coat and cap as he clutches a microphone while standing in front of the said train station in broad daylight.

He says, _"Thank you Jen, as you have said earlier, this is a tragedy that has struck the nation of Russia hard. I, as well as almost everyone in Moscow, has been waiting for further reports to see if this was a terrorist attack or a shootout between two rival gangs. Nothing is for certain at the moment, only that the police is still investigating and has promised us more information as soon as possible, back to you Jen."_

The scene cuts back to the female reporter back in the news room.

"_Thank you Tim, now in other report, Carl Bowmen, last year's winner of 'America's Got Talent,' is planning on making his stay in Hollywood more indefinite as he proposes to famous actress, Helen Taylor, outside in front of a crowd in the Beverly Hills_-"

Mike turns his pad off and sighs as he slumps in the chair.

A bloody massacre has just taken place less then twenty-four hours ago and people were more concerned about a new rich kid proposing to a much older woman; what is this world coming to?

Before he could dwell on this any longer, the door behind Mike opens and a short man strides in.

Nate McCullen isn't pretty, he wasn't paid to be, but one would have thought (with him being a Level One agent within the agency) that he would be more presentable. He is wearing a suit that is all crumpled at the moment, has a five o'clock shadow on the verge of growing out of control, grey hair that is usually comb but is now a tangled mess and he has bags under his eyes. Despite this though, he smiles broadly when he sees Schmidt.

"Ah, Mike," the tired fifty year old man says in greeting as he makes his way around Mike and settles in the seat behind the desk.

"I was worried you wouldn't make it," he said in a solemn voice.

"So was I," admits Mike in a low voice.

Nate nods in sympathy as he reaches into a cabinet behind him and pulls out a file. He flips it open and begins to go through the contents.

"That was some mess you got yourself into," he comments, "the President had initiated the Phantom Personnel Contingency," he pauses at what he is doing as he looks up at Mike, "you and your team are being broken up and place in different sectors."

Mike sighs as he nods his understanding, he was expecting this.

"It's nothing personal Mike," Nate continues as he puts the folder back and digs out another, "it's just for you and your team's safety should the Russians figure out what happened."

"Do _we_ know what happened?" Mike asks in a desperate voice.

Nate sighs and shakes his head, "Unfortunately no, we still can't ID this forth player."

"Could it have been the Russians themselves?" Mike asks.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Nate says as he switches out another file, "their new President may be aggressive, but I don't think he would do something like that, not so soon after the inauguration."

"Does he really focus on keeping the people happy that much?" Mike asks.

"Seeing as how he is from a wealthy crime family with a lot of rivals in the country, I would think so," answers Nate.

"Alright," Mike says as he thinks, "So chances are slim that it was the Russians."

"It may have been a terror group," offers Nate.

"They were too well equipped," counters Mike, "they were organized and ready for a fight, they are either Chinese, Korean, maybe Iranian. There's also the possibly that they were just a heavily supplied Mercenary group like Trenchfoot."

"Trenchfoot is keeping to themselves after their African deal went south," Nate says, "for all we know they could be a rogue Special Forces group."

Mike sighs as he takes all this in. Never in all his years in the network did something like this happen to him. True he lost his share of men on missions and the unfortunate civilian would step into the crosshairs, but this wasn't a unavoidable encounter, it was a all out firefight that may cause a international crisis.

"Sixteen dead and twenty four injured," Mike murmurs softly to himself, "that has to be some sort of record, right?"

"The only number we keep track of," Nate says sternly, "is the number of success we have, that _you_ have," he puts emphasis on that point.

"Tell that to Walt's kids and Robby's parents," Mike said.

"They were grown men," Nate counters, "they knew the risk and besides, they, as well as the rest of your team, knows that you would move Heaven and Earth for them, there was really nothing you could do."

"I caused this," Mike bitterly blurts out.

"Considering the limited options that you had," analysis Nate, "you chose the one you thought was best and it completed the mission."

"And now there are sixteen new graves on the market because of that," Mike seethes, "I should have known…"

"Should have known what?" Nate asks, "nobody knew nothing Mike, we still don't, so do not blame yourself for something in the past; you've been through this before."

"Yeah, but never on this large of a scale," Mike replies in a broken voice.

Nate sighs as he shakes his head before cycling through another folder.

Mike thinks silently to himself before saying, "I'm surprised I wasn't sacked."

Nate rolls his eyes, "You? Sacked? With all your experience I'm sure whichever Congress member suggests that idea will be wetting their pants fearing you will assassinate them," his mood dies down though as he says, "but they are demoting you."

Mike thinks this over before saying, "to what?"

"You went from Level Three to Level Four."

Mike curses lowly, causing Nate to glance up at him.

"I thought you said you didn't care about rank," he recalls.

"Yeah, but not this time," answers Mike, "Now I'll be denied access looking into classified records."

"Why do you care about that all of a sudden?" a baffled Nate asks.

"I was hoping on finding something that can help us figure out who those guys were that attacked us in Russia," answers Mike with fingers curled up into fists.

"NSA and CIA are already on it, not to mention our own people you know," Nate says.

"I've got that, but I just want to help," Mike says in a defeated voice.

Nate nods without saying a word as he continues going through the paperwork in each cabinet he is digging in.

"What are you looking for anyway?" Mike says, more to stop himself from dwelling on the past then out of curiosity.

"This," Nate says as he finally appears satisfied after looking a file over and places it in the middle of the table and motions for Schmidt to scoot closer. Mike leans forward a little, his interest slightly perks as he wonders if this is another assignment. But why would they send him on one after what had just happened?

"Your boys are being distributed to the Military, FBI, CIA and DEA," his senior counterpart informs him, "you on the other hand are going to be performing a civil service act."

Mike is quiet for a moment, stun, before simply saying, "What?"

"You need something to do, but need to lay low, way low," he looks Mike in the eye, "especially if this fourth party got a good look at you and is looking for payback."

Mike shrugs, "I'm more than ready to face a little revenge, besides, what do you mean civil service work? Why not send me to someplace more…useful, like the CIA? I got a few good contacts in the agency."

"We don't want you on the radar, not this soon anyway," Mike visibly deflates at this, "and this is something up your alley," he says as he taps the paper in front of him.

Mike sighs, "What am I doing? Police work?"

"Nope, security guard detail."

There is complete silence after this stunning revelation.

"That's not funny Nate," Mike says wearily.

"I'm serious," Nate looks at the paper, "there's a place called 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria' and its-"

"A pizzeria?!" Mike asks in a disgusted tone, "After all the stuff I have done, all the missions, all the kill charts, all the success, you're going to be having me guard some sort of two-bit dump?"

"This 'two-bit dump' you are referring to, is having a lot of trouble, serious trouble," Nate says in a grave voice.

Mike couldn't help but smirk, "what kind of trouble could this place be having that requires the help from a former Green Beret Black Ops trained, agent?"

"How does solving a psychotic murder spree sound?"

Another second of stun silence before Mike snaps himself out of it and says, "Psychotic murder? Like the type with the butcher knife or the type with a chainsaw?"

"The type who mutilates, hides and runs away before the cops can so much as put their donuts down," answers Nate as he looks down at the file.

"The place was pretty popular, started in the sixties and was just starting to take off to the big leagues when something happened in the eighties, or the year eighty seven to be more precise." He looks up at Mike, "in order for this to make sense, I guess we need to know more about this place." He refers to the paper again, "it was the first and only known kid's restaurant to feature fully working, mobile and entertaining robotic animatronics."

"Animatronics?" Mike asks.

"Robots dressed up as giant furry animals…think Mickey Mouse with a terminator exo-skeleton beneath his skin."

"Thanks for simplifying it," Mike sarcastically said.

Nate smiles for the first time out of amusement before saying, "anyway, that's how the place got popular, not for its pizza, but these animatronics who are smart to move and calculate their way around a problem, some are considering them to be the first gen of AI intelligence."

"Stunning," Mike comments in a non-interested voice.

"Back then it was, up until the 'incident' as it's called."

"Incident?"

"That's where things went wrong I guess," Nate flips to another page, "One of the animatronics went haywire and…well to add to the realism, whoever created these robots gave them actual teeth, and unfortunately for this one poor sucker he got bit by the one who had the sharpest of canines."

Mike feels his heart plummet. He has seen the terrible side of humanity and what people can do to each other, but he didn't want to think about what had happened.

"This…this happened at a kid's restaurant?" he asks in a chilled voice.

"Yeah, but the vic wasn't a kid," answers Nate, "it was a guy who wasn't doing anything wrong as far as anyone could tell before, chomp," he looks up at Mike, "lost part of his face."

Mike opens and closes his mouth before saying, "then what?"

"The dude died," answers Nate, "not from the bite itself, but from some sort of trauma he was suffering before he visited, according to the case files he was a Vietnam vet. Anyway, all that people cared about is the fact that it happened at a children's play place and they didn't want their little tykes to be next on the menu."

"Business started to drop after that," Mike guesses.

"The whole operation almost got shut down," Nate elaborates, "They are barely chugging along today, having a killer robot isn't good for publicity you know."

"Do tell," Mike says.

"Alright, they put the malfunction animatronic on ice-"

"Like me," Mike compares in a lukewarm voice.

"You're down Mike," Nate says with conviction in his eyes, "not out."

Mike merely shrugs and waves for him to continue.

"Parents wanted the animatronics to be scraped and have the restaurant either remodeled or destroyed, that's when things get even darker." Nate then pulls out a small white square and hands it to Mike. It was the backside of a photograph, Mike flips it over and his eyes widen in horror at what he sees.

"What is that?" he demands, not taking his gaze off the photo.

"_That_ was a human being," Mike looks up, hoping to see humor in Nate's face, but it was as serious as ever, "from what we can tell he was stuffed into a spare animatronic suit, with all the gears and stuff still inside it."

Mike couldn't believe it, but now that he observes the image more closely, he soon realizes that there is no other explanation, seeing how all the skin, flesh and organs are now one big pulp resting inside what could only be described as a gearbox.

"The psycho killer," Mike says, putting the pieces together.

"This was taken just a month ago, but we have reports suggesting that this has been going on for nearly thirty years."

Mike feels sick and angry as he says, "Thirty years of this," he waves the picture, "how?"

Nate shrugs, "it isn't like this has been happening every night, in fact, that photo is the only thing we have to go off from to suggest what has been going on there. At first it was just disappearances."

"Disappearances," repeats Mike.

"Yeah," nods Nate, "the night watchman was the first to go, he was living alone, no immediate family or close friends and his coworkers only knew him as a nutter, so not many people notice he was gone till after they realized his car has been in the parking lot for five days straight. When they couldn't find him, they just shrugged and hired someone else. When that new guy disappeared on his very first night though, that was when questions started to be asked."

Mike thinks for a moment before asking, "How many people had disappeared?"

"Nine, but only the night watchmen, no other employee or child have been harmed...as far as we know."

"Don't they have cameras or tried to get the police involved?"

"Yes and yes," answers Nate, "however, every morning people checks the cameras only to see that the recordings have been tampered with. There have been police stakeouts, inside and outside, but they never catch anyone. The second to last night guard had a police officer beside him on his second night, nothing happened on the first, but when the officer left to answer the 'call of nature', the watchman had disappeared in a span of a minute."

"And the officer didn't hear a scuffle?" Mike asks, now with full interest.

"Not a peep, and when he checked the cameras he found that they were already wiped."

"Fast worker," Mike says.

"Too fast," he gestures at the photo, "people are scared out of their minds, they only order take-out pizza now, never staying longer than they have to and the people who are working there are only doing it because they have no other place to go, it's a small town mind you."

"So the police got fed up with this and asked the government for help. After pestering us for days on end, we finally sent an FBI agent to have a look see, he went in at night but never came out."

"So nine civilians and an agent," counts Mike.

"Yeah, however when they were searching the premises, the police found a camera that was thrown out one of the pizzeria's windows, it belonged to the agent," Nate glances at the photo, "and that was all that he snapped."

"So he was able to get some evidence out before he got nabbed," Mike says thoughtfully before tapping the image, "and this was a month ago?"

Nate nods, "nothing has happened yet so far, but ten people gone, possibly killed, after thirty years is starting to become a serious issue, and frankly I'm surprised the newshawks haven't started reporting these incidents."

"Possible suspects?" Mike asks next, "any enemy of the owner perhaps?"

"He filed some names, but we have nothing concrete on anybody to suggest that they are experiencing any Hannibal traits. We got ourselves here a classic mysterious Jack the Ripper who apparently is uncatchable."

"Out of public interest," Mike mordantly says, "would it be safer to just demo the building and see what could be found in the rubble?"

"The owner won't allow it, he's got his lawyers, attorneys and law firms protecting his rights, and seeing how there is no real evidence that the disappearances are linked to him or his place of work, we can't nail him or take his property."

Mike thinks this all through before asking, "why do people keep going then? If they know this place has a history?"

"It's a small town," Nate says as if this answers everything, "it's close to becoming a ghetto and there's only one other fast food chain, but apparently most of the residence aren't that fond of Chinese food."

Mike nods as he sucks in all this knowledge. No longer is he a bum on the chair, now he is sitting with full attention and determination burning in his eyes. This was no secret mission in a foreign country, this is happening on the home front and he is ready to meet the challenge.

"Ok…" he says carefully, "but why me?"

"You're the only one available," Nate's tone sounds as if this is a obvious answer.

"Yeah, I know that, but what I meant was why someone with…my line of work?"

Nate taps the image again, "it's pretty obvious whoever is doing this knows what he is doing and is strong enough to do it, average police units aren't going to cut it, and the Bureau is ticked they will retaliate in force for their lost man, which is why they gave the assignment to our agency; because they know we get results."

Nate closes the file and pushes across the desk and in front of Mike.

"This will still be done under espionage tasking," he says, "same line of work, but it may be best of you to stick with your real name seeing how varied names are in the states."

Mike wonders about that for a while before nodding and says, "How will this be played?"

"You'll be acting under the guise of a new guy in town who is willing to give this night job a try; I've already secured you a temporary house there. Your aliases is a young man who has just finished college with psychology degree and needs the money the job is offering while you find your first person to…'evaluate'."

"Cheery," Mike says as he rolls his eyes, "Why psychology?"

"So you will be able to bluff your way through," Nate answers with a smirk.

Mike couldn't believe he is doing this, one moment he could have been doing an assassination of a refugee warlord and his private army in Africa, now here he is being a security guard in a crummy building in the states. He finds this more unbelievable then him being all over the world running covert missions.

He wants to help, he really does, but he also sees this as an opportunity to clear his head, a quick mission ending with him catching or killing a deranged murderer should do it. And in this way, it'll give him some time for him to do his own investigation as he tries to figure out who killed his two guys and all those people on his last op.

He looks at Nate and asks, "When do I leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

**To DocKucCRO's review: That is true, but the whole black ops thing will make sense as the story progressives, or at least I hope it will.**

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**Two**

Mike stops his car at the address, takes one glance and starts moaning.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles.

True to its words, the place looks like a joint design specifically for kids. The building is one story high, made of brick and indeed looks to be nearly fifty years old. There is a double door entrance in front of the parking lot, some windows along the side which is covered with dirt and dust. Meanwhile the forest encircles the rear of the structure, making it nearly impossible to see things in the back. There are weeds growing in an abundance along the concrete foundation while some of the building blocks are chipped and worn. Either this place is closed or the owner doesn't have enough funds to clean up the place, or better yet repair it.

He would have taken the structure as a normal restaurant that went out of business, but the massive billboard placed on the roof suggests this place is unique. It portrays a large bear with robotic joints holding up a cane while one of its knees is raised as if it is in the middle of a tap dance. Standing next to it is a blue bunny with a guitar and on the opposite end is a yellow chicken holding up a pizza box like it was a hard earned trophy. The color has faded and stains from the weather has left it mark on the paper, but what grabs Mike's attention is that the bill board appears to be broken. It looks like it was placed a little off center of the door, making it look unbalance, he was opting to see this as nothing more than a major typo, but the jagged end on its side suggests something else. From the looks of it, a portion of the sign was torn off, but why?

He glances around the parking lot. There are cars parked here, about a dozen, but not nearly enough to fill it considering there is still space for an additional forty eight vehicles. He guesses the people here are either the workers or are the few visitors that comes in for a bite to eat. He sees a flash of movement and looks up just in time to see a teenager leave the building with a pizza in hand, a nervous twitch in his step suggests that he is heavily tempted to take off sprinting from the pizzeria he just exited.

Chinese food or pizza where psychotic murders have taken place…not exactly a buffet but Mike would personally take the Asian cuisine over the pizza.

He looks around one last time before reaching behind him and brings a duffle bag out of the back of the car and places it on the passenger's seat. He unzips and removes a Glock handgun. He loads a clip and chambers a round, but he keeps it on safety, he isn't expecting trouble yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry. He places it in his shoulder holster and hides it by putting on a coat he just bought while on his way here.

He then opens the door and exits his car, but not before grabbing and shouldering his bag. He checks over his appearance, he suppose he looks casual, working jeans, plain green shirt covered by his jacket complete with a short haircut. He wonders if he looks the part of a young psychologist, but hopefully people will believe he is still learning the ropes and is the reason why he doesn't look as "professional."

He takes a shaky breath before walking towards the building.

He pushes the door open and finds himself in a small waiting area where comfortable benches line the walls, but it was empty save for one young teenager who looks sleepy as he leans against a small booth. The moment Mike stepped in however, the youth immediately stood up straight and puts on a big smile as he speaks.

"Hello and welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria!" he says enthusiastically, "a table for one or are you here to pick up an order?"

Mike frowns lightly before saying, "No thank you, I am here about that security job opening."

The youth's eyes widen and his smile fades, but it quickly returns only now as a small grin.

"Oh," he says with a nervous chuckle, "you must be Mike."

Mike raises an eyebrow slightly, "You heard of me?"

"Um," the teen shifts from foot to foot as he glances over his shoulder as if checking to see if they are alone before turning back to him, "yeah, it's usually big news here when we hear that someone is applying for that job."

"Is it that uncommon," Mike asks, "it's supposed to be the graveyard shift, it's probably the easiest time of the work day, right?"

The teen pales lightly at the word 'graveyard', but he tries his best to play it off.

"Uh…yeah…"

They stand in silence before Mike asks, "so can you show me to the boss?"

"Oh," the teen stands up straight, "right, follow me," with that he turns and leads the way into the building.

They cross a rather large threshold that leads into what appears to be a miniature theatre. It's almost the size of a school auditorium with nearly fifty tables and chairs, complete with low lit lights and fading wall paper that has just started to peel. It looks like something from the story the 'Phantom of the Opera', but instead of ghosts there are some people and-

"Hello kids!"

There on the stage is the strangest trio that Mike has ever seen. It briefly reminds him of some messed up Saturday morning cartoon shows that he used to watch when he was younger. There are multicolored, mechanical, fully operational robotic animals on stage; a bear, a rabbit, and a chicken, and they were all singing.

The bear is front and center, standing between the other two robotic mascots. He has a microphone in his hand, a black top hat on his head and stands at possibly six foot two, clearing dominate compared to Mike's six foot frame. The voice has a deep tone to it, but it doesn't sound threatening, there's also a sort of tall tell sign of advance age within the tone, like the often assumed voice of a grandfather.

Standing to the bear's left is a bright yellow chicken with a orange beak, a large bib that has the words 'Let's Eat!' on front and is hoping around to the song while providing a sort of back up chorus with…a feminine voice? It sounds so real, like a woman with a soft voice that is actually quite full of melody.

Lastly is a large purple rabbit who isn't singing, but is playing with a guitar, moving its rather chubby fingers as it coordinately play a fast tempo song at a incredible speed that could rival a professional rock and roll guitarist. It is wearing a bow tie, has rather large ears, and is quite musical gifted.

The characters looks rather large and bulky, but what could Mike expect? They must be nearly fifty years old, so the technology back then couldn't be cutting edge. But the way the rabbit is strumming, the way the bear is singing and how the chicken is providing a well tuned chorus voice…he has never seen such things with modern day machinery.

His eyes lowered from the stage and at the crowd, but it is only then does he realize how deserted the place was. Sure it was pretty noticeable the tables are empty, but he didn't expect it to be this bad.

There are only two families here with both parents looking nervous. The five kids on the other hand were enraptured with the performance before them, oblivious to their mother's and father's plight.

"I'll go get Mr. Fazbear," the teenager Mike was following says, "please stay here and, um, enjoy the show," with that he heads down a rather plain hallway. Mike glances around the room once more, noting the tall ceiling, wide space and…a large curtain blocking a large hole that he realizes is the entrance to another room, but placed in front of the drapes is a small rope barrier stand.

Curious, he walks towards it and stops when he is at the barrier. There is a small 'Out of Order' sign hanging from the cord of the barrier, but Mike ignores this as he leans over it and he uses his hand to push the curtain aside.

It is indeed another room, not as big as the first, but large all the same. One portion of the room had toys, miniature cars, small wooden swords and shields, a table of crayons and drawing paper and countless other fun things for kids.

The other section though was a stage, but it was different than the one the trio of animals are playing on. The entire front portion has been painted and shaped in the likeness of a pirate ship with the deck being the top of the stage. There is even a mast placed in its center where it stretches towards the ceiling, but it lacks a flag. There is a big carpeted area before the ship where Mike suspects the children would sit and watch the show, but what show would that be though?

His eyes adjusts some more to the light and that is when he was able to make out an odd shape on stage. It looks round, but the edges were all rough and crumpled so it wasn't a ball of some kind. There is a slight protrusion that is ticking out like a triangle while there are two empty holes drilled above it. After a while, Mike finally realizes it's a mask.

He glances behind him and at the performing animatronics, sure enough, their heads are large and sphere shaped. He returns to observing the mask on the deck again, it must belong to the animatronic that malfunction all those years ago.

His eyes narrow however when he notices something is off. The entire setting is covered in dust, nobody has been in there for years. However, the deck of the boat was clean, as well as the robotic head. Someone had been walking around up there, and recently from the looks of things.

"Well, if it isn't our college professor," a voice suddenly says.

Mike leans out of the closed off section and turns until he is face to face with someone who appears a few years younger than him. He isn't a teen, but he doesn't look like a mature adult either, more like somewhere in the middle. He is wearing a business suit minus the jacket, has a tie and a pointed face scrounged up in a annoyed look. There could only be one possibility on who this guy is, but Mike doubts it.

"Are you Mr. Fazbear?" he asks hesitantly.

The man snorts as he crosses his arms, "unfortunately."

This prompts Mike's interest, "you don't like running this business?"

"Who would?" the young manager demands as he gestures to the few customers that are seated for the show.

Mike couldn't argue with that so he just gives a tiny shrug.

Mr. Fazbear mummers beneath his breath before sighing, "So you're Schmidt, right?"

"Yes sir," he says politely.

"So what's a shrink like you doing here?" he questions.

"Not enough head cases back in the city," Mike relays his back story, "and I heard there was a positioned open here."

"Yes, but why hear of all places," the manager continues, "why did you choose to settle here in Greegrove when there are so many other good towns around us?"

"Well I have always been an outdoorsman at heart," Schmidt says with a bit of truth within his words, "and this place seems perfect, it also has a nice view of the Appalachian Mountains."

Fazbear shakes his head, "You sure you want this job?"

"Yes sir," Mike answers again.

"Even with everything you heard?"

Mike frowns lightly, "I'm not sure what you mean sir."

Fazbear rolls his eyes, "Don't play dumb with me, if you're going to work here, then you surely must have heard something about this place."

_The_ _man_ _is_ _smart_, Mike makes sure to remember this as he thinks on his feet.

"Well I suppose I did hear a thing or two," he admits, "but I just assumed they were rumors; scary androids, old building, and supposed mechanical accidents?" he finishes with a raised eyebrow, "sounds like something you would find on the web."

Fazbear quietly bites his lower lip as he glances down at his feet for a moment before looking back up again and says, "That last statement wasn't."

"Wasn't what?" Mike asks curiously, but he knew full well what was coming.

"It is on the internet, but it's no hoax."

Mike widens his eyes in feign shock, but Fazbear speaks before he did, "Now don't you go yammering about that, especially around customers, they're barely getting over that and just a little reminder of that incident will send whoever is left packing, you understand?"

Mike instantly bobs his head in a way he considers to be pathetic, "yes sir."

They are silent for a few second with only the animatronics providing music in the background. Finally Fazbear slowly releases a puff of air as he says, "Follow me," but this time his voice is solemn.

He starts walking down one of the hallways and Mike follows. The fading wallpaper is replaced with weathered plaster.

"There is another hallway that runs parallel with this one," Fazbear explains as they walk, "It was made so clean-up crews can walk towards the back of the stage and won't bother the guest."

"What's in that hallway?" Mike questions.

"The power and storage rooms, it also leads to the stage where there are some old party gags and what not," he pauses when they reach a T-section and Mike catches the whiff of something cooking.

"Down that way is a short cut to the kitchen," the boss waves his hand down the indicated hallway, "there are three other ways in there, this way, the swinging doors in the theatre, a side entrance on my side of the building, and an exit to the back."

"Are there other exits?" Mike asks.

"I'm getting there," the boss grumbles as they step into another room. Mike instantly sees there's a difference here, this section of the pizzeria looks…older. The walls are now made of wooden panels, along with the floor, but they seem to be made of actual wood. The corridor is pretty much empty except for some boxes, but in the corner there is a bulge in the wall with a door cut into it along with a window beside it. Fazbear heads over to the doorway and Mike follows.

"This is a part of the original building that housed the original pizzeria," the man explains, "this used to be the manager's office, but due to its strategic position we changed it into the security guard station."

They walked into the room and Mike quickly looks it over. He and Fazbears fits easily within it and if he has to guess, five additional people can probably squash in here as well. Pushed towards the front is an age old metal desk with an office revolving chair. Resting on the surface is a mountain of mini TV sets stacked on top of one another, some had knobs mixed in with the switches like the old ones from half a century ago. There is a few pieces of trash, scrap paper probably and an ancient fan that looks like it belongs to a museum, he briefly wonder if it even works.

Covering the wall though is a diorama of the mascots. There is a large poster that has the word "Celebrate!" at the top and as its center points are the three performers themselves in the same order that Mike had seen them in earlier on stage; Rabbit, Bear, and Chicken. At the bottom of the page though are names, each one colored similarly to that of the corresponding animatronic above it; purple for Bonnie the rabbit, Brown representing Freddy the bear, and finally yellow for Chica the chicken. He should have guessed that to be their names.

Nestled next to the poster is a collage of drawings kept in mint condition. They are colored brightly and with the characters having cartoonist traits, but each one was displaying the animatronics from a child's point of view. One consisted of Chica with a pizza, Freddy with his mouth wide open like a opera singer and Bonnie playing for a kid while musical notes surround them. Occasionally there is a word drawn in with the images, mostly, "Thank you," "That was fun," and "I love you." They were all so childish that Mike feels like he is in a horror movie, any moment now he expects that psychotic killer to pop up behind his shoulder or something, but he keeps his cool.

There was a line of tiles plastered to the walls, but only a thin strip in the midsection while some old decorative paper cling to the wall like withering vines. Mirroring the door that the Mike has just entered is another entrance, but this one leads to a different hallway. He walks over and looks beyond, the corridor before him seems longer, darker and colder. He resists a urge to shudder as he steps away and that's when he notices something, positioned next to the door is a control panel with two buttons on them; a red square and a white one as well. He glances at the entrance they have just walk in through and sees similar controls, what could they be for?

He hears a nervous cough and turns to Fazbear who seems to be having some sort of inner turmoil within his mind before he sighs, crosses his arms and looks at Mike in the eye.

"Alright let's cut to the chase," he says, "There is a reason why this position is vacant."

Mike blinks and bluffs a little, "Because it's creepy?"

"I wish," he mutters as he shakes his head, "no, you see there has been a…series of incidents surrounding this job…incidents that results in…death."

Now here is where Mike has to perform perfectly or risk revealing his true reason for being there, he just hopes he get this right.

"You mean…like accidents?" he asks in a cautious voice.

Fazbear stares at the floor for a moment before saying, "more like murders."

Mike does his best to taunt his voice as he gapes his mouth a little, "M-m-murders?"

Fazbear nods but says quickly, "that was a while back though, I'm sure whoever is responsible for them is long gone."

Mike eyes him carefully as he ask, "you sure?"

"I'm positive," Fazbear says while his eye slightly twitch a little, "it has been a long time since the last…occurrence happened, I'm sure everything is fine now."

"Is that all?" Mike questions next.

Fazbear frowns lightly before saying, "you probably heard that this place is haunted, but I guarantee you it isn't, there's never been evidence to suggest murders have taken pace here and no psychopaths have ever been found, everything is fine."

Mike knows he's lying, the FBI investigator disappeared only a few months ago, but he doesn't bring it up.

"So…" Fazbear starts off quietly, "are you still interested?"

Mike doesn't really have a choice in the matter, but he puts on a show as he nervously looks around again and says, "You're sure there is nothing wrong here?"

"Of course I am," Fazbear waves his hand a little, "You're going to be fine kid."

Mike is sure he is older than his new boss, but he doesn't bring that up.

"Now here's the security monitors," Fazbear gestures at the old computers on the desk, "just press the 'on' switches like so," he flicks one of the switches, "and there you go."

The image before them shows a black and white version of the theatre where the animatronics are still playing and the children are still watching in fascination.

"Now all these monitors are hooked up to this main consol here," he points out one of the TV sets that Mike realizes is actually a computer, the keypad was previously hidden by some scrap-paper that Fazbear now swipes away.

"Last guard didn't even clean up before he was, uh, transferred," Fazbear says in a rush before he clicks a button and the computer hums on.

"This is mostly used to store the videos from the cameras and to review them if necessary," he explains, "this was the original device that was used to check the cameras in the older section of the building so that is why its outmoded if you're wondering."

_Or because you're low on money and can't afford the latest model_, Mike thought to himself as he listens, _maybe I can find some way to hook it all up to a portable tablet_.

"Like I said," Fazbear continues, "there really isn't anything to fret about, but after what has happened we did our best to make this room a bit more…safer."

He walks towards one of the door and addresses the buttons that Mike had seen earlier.

"This white button here turns on the lights outside the door," he demonstrates by pressing the indicated command and the corridor is flooded with bright illumination that disappears when Fazbear removes his hand.

"This red one though is for security measures," he clicks it and Mike jumps when a metal door drops from the ceiling and slams down hard on the ground.

"What?" Mike questions in bewilderment, he's seen things like this before, but never would he have thought something like that would be installed in a kid's restaurant.

"Comforting isn't it?" Fazbear asks with a hint of a smirk, "If you have a bad feeling, you can close these door." Slowly though, his face falls as he coughs and says lightly, "uh, one thing though, the doors and lights can't be kept on forever."

_Well_ _that's_ _comforting,_ Mike thinks to himself as he says, "Why?"

"well these doors are quite heavy and they take up a lot of power when they are used," explained the manager, "and you see due to some…financial difficulties, I had to cut back on power usage so I decided to lower the power current at night."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you will have limited energy when you are working," Fazbear explains, "if you use the doors sparingly, the lights will remain on for most of your shift, but if you waste it then the whole place will go dark and there will be no way of shutting the doors."

Mike wasn't one to hide behind a shield when trouble starts, but having near ton metal doors on his side seems to increase his odds of survival. However with them on limited power that may actually eliminate that advantage altogether.

"Anyway," Fazbear says as he turns, "come with me to my office and we'll finish filling out the paperwork."

"Actually sir," Mike voices, "can I stay here for a while?"

Fazbear glances back as Mike shrugs his bag off as he explains, "I just wish to get myself set up."

His new boss eyes the bag with suspicion and asks, "Depends, what are you going to do?"

Mike opens the bag and brings out a large boom box radio and smiles at Fazbear, "I just want to set up the essential stuff."

Fazbear rolls his eyes and walks out while saying, "alright, but don't take too long."

Mike waits until the manager's steps fade away and the smile fades away from his face. He reaches inside his bag and pulls out some iron wire. He sets the radio down next to him as he squats low and goes to work beneath the desk. He slowly intertwine the line around the exposed bolts and screws beneath the desk, tying the wire between them, but leaving the middle of the line sagging slightly. He erects another line in the same fashion until there are two low hanging metal pieces.

He now turns his attention to the radio. He pauses to take a quick look at the security cameras. The hallways are clear and no one seem to be approaching so he is in the clear for the moment. He reaches towards the side of the boom box where a well placed clasp is hidden within the radio's making. He unclips it, and unclips another that is at the bottom as well as two additional ones on the opposite side.

He then grabs one side of the device and pulls it open as it swings on a hinge like a briefcase. Resting on cushions hidden inside the boom box was metallic pieces that Mike grabs and inspects before putting them together. The different parts fit together like a puzzle and connects with satisfying clicks as he works. Expertly the jumble of discarded, unrecognizable metal components quickly took shape until he holds the finished product propped on his knee; a combat certified pump action shot gun.

He picks it up and holds it against his shoulder in various angles before making a minor adjustment. He takes off the weapon's stock, this will give him more maneuverability in tight spaces, make the gun lighter and he can draw it faster, but without the stock the stability will be slightly off unless he hangs onto the gun tightly.

Along with the disassembled shot gun were two military grenades. He picks both of them up and makes sure they are in good condition before he opens a compartment in the desk and plops them in there, silently hoping no one will find them. He then loads his gun, seven rounds goes in while he has fourteen shells left, which he decides to put in the desk along with the explosives. Gently, he places the now loaded shotgun beneath the desk and hangs it on the suspended wires he had attached to the underside. He rolls the office chair into its place beneath the desk and steps back. At first glance no one will see the gun unless they kneel down and inspects the underside.

Hopefully this psychotic nut will not cause too much trouble, but he is not one for being careful. For all he knows, there is more than one murderer. This may be extreme in some sense, but after all he has seen he knows what a person is capable of. Besides, his superiors knows what kind of a man he is, so they shouldn't be too surprised with the arsenal he decided to bring with him.

After double checking to make sure all his weapons are secured (he found a key that locks the desk so no one can find the grenades and ammo) he leaves the office and head off to find Fazbear.

* * *

Fazbear's workplace looks pretty normal in Mike's eyes. It was just as small as his, but the tech is more modern, the plaster wall was painted a bright white and there are file cases running alongside the walls all around them. He is sitting in front of Fazbear as he documents their paperwork onto his computer, typing over a hundred words per minute from the looks of it. Mike can faintly hear the music being played, but it sounds like the animatronic band has switched to a new song, this one more upbeat and he is sure he hears the word "milkshake" being used for the high notes. He scans the desk again, but it was bare, as were the walls, no personal effects or awards, or at least none that are worth showing.

"If you don't mind me being nosy sir," Mike starts, "but when did you started managing the place?"

There is a pause in the clicking as Fazbear looks at him briefly before returning his eyes to the screen as he says, "A year or two ago, I don't really remember."

"Earlier you asked why I applied here," notes Mike, "I stand by what I said of being an outdoors man, but what are you doing here sir? If you don't like it why don't you leave?"

"Don't make me start believing in fairy tales again Schmidt," Fazbear orders as he now pounds away on the keyboard, "If you want to know, owning this dump was the last thing I wanted."

The conversation stopped there, but the song still plays in the background, but it doesn't have an effect in this now depressing setting.

"Still-" Mike tries to say when Fazbear interrupts him as he swears beneath his breath.

"What is this, twenty questions?" demands the manager, "why do you want to know?"

"Well you said this place was haunted and…murder may have been committed here, I just want to see why you are hanging around here so I know that I'm not going crazy," Mike tries to explain.

Secretly though, Mike is trying to figure out if Fazbear could be the murderer. For all he knows the man could be using the restaurant as a front for his serial crime spree. But why? Especially since this place has a history he should have left, not unless he truly is insane. Yet he claims to have started working two years ago and the murders have started in the eighties, there was no way he could have been killing since then. So why is he sticking around?

Fazbear scowls at Mike for a moment before returning to typing was he growls out, "because my idiot of a father made me promise my grandfather I would take care of the place when he is gone. How about that? Being forced into a career that is spiraling out of control and will no doubt end with me being broke? I'm here because my family made me promise to keep this joint their name."

"Well…can't your father take over?"

"Mom is catatonic in the ER room at the moment and the old man is already six feet under," growls Fazbear, "and granddaddy was on his deathbed when I promised. This place had taken a turn for the worst, but he still wanted it, or rather he wanted _us_ to have it."

"Any thoughts on why?" Mike asks, "Maybe he could have sold the place and use the money for something else."

"That's what I said!" exclaims Fazbear who for a moment seems happy, maybe this is the first time someone sees things from his prospective, "but the family wouldn't hear it, they keep going on of how everything will turn up, how those animatronics," he jerks a thumb at his wall where the songs are originating from, "will spring up some fast cash." He snorts at this, "Yeah right, after what had happened back then, I doubt this place will ever be back on its feet."

Mike assumes he's talking about the bite of 87', but he decides to tackle a new question.

"Where did they come from?" he asks next, now hoping he may learn something new. The murders started after that animatronic killed someone, maybe it was an engineer or whoever handle the machines, he may have program the robot to attack people for the thrill of it and decides to get in on some of the action himself.

"Don't know, don't care," was all that Fazbear says, "Grandpa got them from somewhere but he wouldn't say. I wouldn't be surprised if he bought them from some kind of failed toy maker, he may have been rich, but everything he got was cheap."

"You were rich before having this restaurant?"

"I was never rich, just my grandparents," Fazbear reveals, "I don't know how, maybe he won the lottery, anyway that was back in the golden days you know. Back when people could afford two story houses, two cars, and a month vacation all from a single person working as a factory worker. Maybe he just saved up all his money and then bought this place, I have no clue, they never really talked about it and I didn't ask."

_So the old Fazbear family has a lot of secrets and no doubt all those lawyers and law firms had been set up by either Fazbear's father or grandfather, they wanted this place while their son didn't. The question now is why?_ Mike thinks to himself before Fazbear stops typing.

"Ok, you're all set," Fazbear gets up and walks up to one of the file cabinet and pulls out clothes stuffed in a clear plastic bag.

"This is a new uniform," Fazbear informs him, "so is the badge," he walks over to Mike and hands the package to him, "I don't really care if you wear it or not since no one else will be here, but it's just for appearance you know?"

"Got it," Mike says as he stands and swings his duffle bag in front of him. He places the clothes in it before zipping it up and turns to exit.

"And Schmidt?" Fazbear calls out.

Mike turns to face his employer and is surprised when he sees fear and anxiety in the man's eyes. He is quiet for a moment before saying, "be careful."

Mike is silent before merely nodding and leaves the office. He releases a puff of air.

_So much_ _for_ _there_ _being_ _no_ _trouble_, he thought to himself as he walks down the hall, back towards the theater, he knows there's a chance he could die, but at least he's prepared... or as prepared as a person can get when facing the unknown.

When he got back into the party room he sees that some of the customers have left and the animatronics are now walking off stage, embracing and patting the children who rushes up to meet them in person. Mike notes that the parents are tense as they watch their kids play with the animatronics, as if they are expecting one of them to take a bite out of their child.

Mike watches as well, but he is quite surprised by the mascot's gentleness. The rabbit is showing off its guitar to a wide eye boy, the bear is squatting down so it is eye level with a little girl who is laughing as she tries to take the top hat off of the bot's head and the chicken is playing thumb wrestling with a giggling toddler. The scene looks so nice and surreal, these kind metal contraptions have deep care for the little ones, maybe they really are AI's who have been programed to care for the children while also having fun with them.

Mike walks alongside the wall when his shoulder brushes against fabric and he turns. He has walked partially into the curtain that is blocking off the closed section of the pizzeria and he is able to briefly see into the room. He comes to a halt and puts his head inside when he instantly sees something different.

The mask that he had seen earlier, the one that was on the stage; it's gone.

_Somebody, maybe a janitor could have moved it_, Mike tried to reason, but for some reason he has a cold feeling in his chest, a sensation that only pops up whenever he feels there is trouble coming. What has he gotten himself mixed into now?

* * *

**How was this? Was it understandable? I hope it was. **

**There is a poll on my profile concerning this story's genre, please vote on it so I'll know how this story is going to go for the next chapter. **

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

Mike looks at his reflection in the mirror one last time before releasing a sigh.

Out of all the ridiculous things I had to do, this is the worse, he thinks to himself as he observes his blue button up shirt, black slacks and small badge on his chest. He also decides to wear a black cap with the American flag stitched onto it, a gift from his late brother before he left for the Second Gulf War. Mike hardly wore it since it was considered a security risk, but now that he's stateside it should be seen as normal and since he was formerly an Infantry soldier it's almost expected of war veterans to have some sort of flag on their possession to show their previous profession. A profession that Mike is proud of.

He finally puts on his shoulder strap and places his hand gun in its holster before draping his jacket over it. He makes sure it's well hidden before he heads out the door. His temporarily home is set up next to the edge of the woods, just like every other building in GreenGrove. He got in his car and drove to his destination.

It is almost midnight, the streets are empty and the town is asleep. He passes the small police station, a book store and a gas station. Make a stop at the one and only stoplight. The town is the only source of light as it reveals its eerie background, this looks like the fitting place for a werewolf to come charging out of the tree line. He pushes that last thought out of his mind as he continues driving, there's no time for him to be having his mind wondering like this, as strange as it may seem, this is still a mission and he needs to be mentally prepared for it. A few minutes later, he pulls up to his new job and briefly observes it.

The building isn't too big, but now with the moon high in the air, the wind blowing dramatically and with the low lit streetlights, it gives Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria a sinister appearance. Above him the characters on the billboard stares down at him with creepy smiles. He squints at the glass of the double doors and could see nothing, it was completely dark inside. This certainly looks like a perfect place to commit murder; it's a building right out of a slasher horror flick.

He pats the bulge on his shoulder reassuringly before releasing a held in breath before exiting the vehicle. He locks the door and readjusts his clothing before walking forward. He unlocks the entrance and slowly enters.

The waiting room is covered in shadows, giving a sense of unease to the place. Mike's heart beat picks up pace a little; this is the first time he is in a dark environment without night vision goggles. It takes all of his restraint not to yank out the pistol and brandish it around the area; there are more than enough places for a psychotic killer to be hiding. And this is just the front of the building alone.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he locks the door again. The click seems to send echoes through the air and has a near forbidding feel for the place. He knew the building was going to be empty, but he was hoping on hearing something, even the squeak of a mouse would be reassuring.

With sheer delicacy, he walks towards the back of the pizzeria. He has perfected the art of being silent, but as he moves every step he takes seems to be loud and clumsy. This place certainly seems dead, talk about a walk in a graveyard.

He makes it into the party room and carefully looks around, one hand resting on the holster. The tables are still set up, party hats lined up in a straight line, chairs coordinately placed where they should be and the animatronics are standing as still as statues on top of the stage. He shivers lightly, the robots looks almost alive, and their shadowy silhouettes are unnerving, as if they are truly here and alive. In the dark he can partially make out the characters eyes, almost as if they are glowing.

He really wishes he can meet the guy who made these things and punch him. Who in their right mind would make robots like this.

He edges along the walls, as if he is the intruder here and not the guard. He passes the closed off section, but briefly pauses to peek inside. It was still empty, along with the stage, no sign of any mysterious missing heads.

He shakes that off; trying to convince himself that there is a reasonable explanation for that. Still, it leaves an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shakes it off though as he continues down towards the security room.

The interior is musty if nothing else, he stays close to the wall as he moves, careful not to disturb anything.

Finally he reaches the small room and flicks on the main light. Everything is still in place since he left earlier; even the trash on the table was still there. But still…

He walks to the desk and feels underneath. Sure enough, his fingers come in contact with the cold steel of the large firearm. He then located the key for the drawers again and check inside, making sure the extra shells and grenade are still inside.

He breathes slowly, this is all he has; hopefully it will be enough. If he's lucky than the guy will surrender when he realizes he's no ordinary security guard. This psycho may have killed before, but Mike was trained for it.

Reassured with the presence of his small inventory, he glances up at the multiple screens. Time to see if his target is in the building.

He presses the small button on the computer tower and was surprised with the amount of sound it makes. It's like an old jalopy warming up; he swears the thing is making enough noise to rival that of a rocket taking off. A second later, the monitor powers on, no password or anything required. Mike quickly looks it over; there were generally two working icons, both of which have to do with the cameras. One is where he can view the recordings later, while the other one is directly link to the live feeds.

He clicks the camera and a moment later; all the smaller computers came to life as well. Its like the old television sets Mike used to watch when he was younger, on occasion there is static or snow obscuring the images, but other than that there is really nothing wrong. After fiddling around, he discovers he can transfer a camera feed from any of the smaller screens to the larger monitor.

He soon notices that the kitchen is blacked out, only the audio is operational, not a lucky break for him, but other than that, the rest of the security systems seems to be fine.

He went through each one, looking for any sign of intrusion while listening as well. However, after fifteen minutes, his eyeballs began to burn and his legs starts to quake. Realizing he can't stay standing like this all night long, he grabs the chair that was pushed to the side and sits down on it.

This may take a while, he thought to himself as he continues his search, right when the clock on the wall behind him struck midnight.

* * *

Mike has propped his legs up on the desk as he leans back in the chair, desperately fighting back a yawn.

He knows he should be on alert, but in all honesty he was bored. Normally there would be something to stare at, a road to watch in the Middle East, a car to track in Asia or even a name to find in a phone book. That has been his experienced throughout the years, but here he has nothing to do. He can't even check the cameras on a regular basis without wasting power; so far this lunatic hasn't made an appearance, but what maniac would pass up the opportunity to attack an unsuspecting victim in the dark?

He takes out his phone and gives the screen a glance. It was barely three AM, three more hours to go.

It has been fifteen minutes since he last used the cameras, leaving him with sixty percent of power, that should be enough for him to use and still has some energy left to spare for the remainder of the night. He powers on the old system again and the desktop came to life. He moves the mouse to each individual screen and checks in on everything.

The hallway is clear.

The manager's office is deserted.

The main theatre room is still set for a party.

The kitchen camera is still out of commission.

Backstage is empty.

The two animatronics are still on stage.

The front door is-

…

Wait a minute.

Mike scrolled back to the last feed and stares. There are only two robots on stage, the bear and the chicken. Where did the rabbit go?

Slowly he puts his feet down as he sits up straight as he continues to stare at the monitor. Did that thing wondered off? Is it possible? He has seen it move in the day, but not at night. His heart rate slowly picked up speed, a giant walking bunny roaming the halls suddenly sounds like some kind of messed up terror film, but still…

He reaches to his left and flick on the lights in the hall.

Empty.

He performs the same action for the one on the right.

Clear.

Alright, so it's not there, but still that doesn't mean-

He tenses when he hears a loud crash. It sounds like a bunch of utensils have just hit the floor. Feeling a little unnerved now, he takes out the gun and places it on the desk, no longer caring if someone walks in and sees it.

He got back on the computer and checks the kitchen; where else would pots and pans be kept.

He releases a curse when he remembers that the camera in there is down.

"Son of a-"

Movement!

On one of the tinier screens something had moved. He switched it over to the main terminal. Pirate Cove…the curtains are waving.

He breathes slowly and evenly. 'There's no need to panic, it's just the wind'.

That comforting thought was removed however as the curtains ever so slowly are pulled back. Something is happening, it's not the wind; something is moving the drapes but what? He carefully leans in closer to the display, trying to see a hand, or a piece of rope, something to show him what is moving.

His eyes are glued to the screen as he watches; there is motion within the cove. He sees it, a moving shadow, it's making its way towards the curtains with slow steady steps like a specter.

The color yellow flashes across another minor monitor and Mike twists to see it, but it's gone already. A flash of red streaks across the one he was looking at a moment ago, he turns, but the shadow within the cove was gone.

He has movement, no hiding it now; the killer is here. Or is it killers? There's no way a single guy could be moving through the place that fast.

He press his hand on the pistol, finger close to the trigger as he rapidly moves the mouse on the computer and tries to track the unknown bogies. What he sees next stops him. He is back on the stage camera now, but only the bear is there. Where did the freaking chicken go!?

What is going on? How is it that two of the animatronics are gone? And is it possible that the malfunctioning one, the one that can take a chomp out of a guy's cranium, is still here? On the loose? Is this all part of the psycho killer's plan? Is he some kind of tech wiz that has somehow programed the robots to run amuck? To unnerve him? He is ashamed to admit it, but it's working.

Before on all his previous operations he had open spaces to run to. An emergency exit, a failsafe plan or even back up. Here he has only a pistol, a shotgun and a grenade. He was sure this would scare any nutcase into surrendering. Now with multiple hostiles and him in a square room with limited room to fight in; it's practically open season with these guys.

Should he try and call the cops? Will they believe him? Will they get here in time? He has no other choice, it's obvious there's a threat here and that there's more than one. He pulls out his phone and starts dialing nine-one-one, desperately hoping this town has a SWAT team.

He is in the process of punching in the last number when he moved. Mike froze, he doesn't know why, he knows they are moving, no doubt they are the ones doing it, but seeing it happening right before his eyes was…unbelievable.

There he is; Freddie the Bear, his mouth opened wide, his top hat on and a mic in his hand. Now, ever so slowly, the head is moving, centimeter by centimeter, rotating around as his body stayed still. Mike could only watch on before the head comes to a stop and the bear just stares at Mike through the camera. Suddenly the eyes shot open, but instead of the normal blue orbs that Mike had seen earlier, there is nothing but darkness as it stares at the security guard. The mouth is pulled upwards into a sinister grin, rows of nubby teeth is revealed and despite everything Mike has gone through; terrorists, mafias and cartels, he was scared, he was absolutely terrified, by this mascot, by a robot that was supposed to bring joy to children. Now here it is, smiling at him with black eyes as if it is possess…could it be…

There is a loud bang down the corridor. Mike hits the lights and looks out the door, but there is nothing. He glances back at the monitor. The bear has disappeared.

There's no point in denying it, the animatronics are moving, and from what he has just seen; they know he's here.

A flash of brown in the main hall.

A bright red light flashing past the boss's office.

Brown sprinting by a corner by the restrooms.

Another loud clang coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

What is this!?

Mike feels as if he has stepped into a nightmare, but it's all too much, all too real. The thumping of his heart and the sweat starting to break out. This isn't good, he was all set to fight, now here he is feeling like this is going to be the Alamo part two.

Wait, his phone, where is it? He still needs to call for help.

He frantically looks down and sees that he has dropped it. He quickly bends over to pick it up when in the corner of his eye he saw it on the computer. Something purple is running down the hall, the maintenance hall, this hall on the left. It's running right at him!

Without another thought, he slams his palm on the red button. A moment later, the steel doors came down and lands with a thud.

He is breathing hard as he sits back up and hits the lights.

"There…but how…what…"words have finally failed him.

Standing right in front of the glass is the rabbit; Bonnie. The animatronic is huge, he wonders if it could have even fit through the door frame, but Mike isn't willing to retract the barriers to see. The purple face is staring right at him, big black eyes that look as if it's trying to gaze within his very soul. If he was ever told he would be attacked and nearly captured by a whopping six foot four bunny rabbit that is wearing a polka dotted bow tie, he would have laughed. Now here it is, literally waiting for him to make a wrong move. He has no idea what it wants, but the cold chill running down his spine is more than enough reason for him to not leave the door-

His eyes widen with realization.

He's forgotten, there were two entrances and he was facing away from the other door!

He spins his chair around just in time to see it enter. It's the chicken, Chica. It ducks to miss the top of the frame, but its eyes are upon him now, its hands are raised and in all honesty he can only see the bib 'Let's Eat!' and the teeth in the beak.

He was trained to never react, he was trained to act.

With that in mind he let his body take over as adrenaline fuels him. He grasps the Glock fully and raises it in front of him before firing.

The four cracks are loud as brass casings went flying into the air before they clatter onto the floor like church bells ringing. The chicken actually shrinks as the bullets hit. There is no blood, only sparks, but the animatronic falls to the floor and onto its rump. He was surprised to see it scurry out of there, arms reaching behind it as it yanks its body back while the legs kick out as it flees the office, all the while its mouth was open and a feminine voice continues to scream almost as if its, or rather she apparently, is the one in trouble. He watches until she disappeared around the corner, but her shrinks are still coming high and loud, almost making him want to cover his ears.

He winches though when he hears a new sound, but this one causes him to panic. The squeal of metal on metal. He looks back to the first door in time to see it starting to shake violently and began to go back up into the ceiling. He looks it over to see what's causing it when he sees the clear problem. There is something that looks like an iron hook, pressed down under the barrier and is pushing it up.

He hasn't seen any of the characters with a hook before, but then the realization hits him.

A malfunctioning bot he has never seen, residing within a place called Pirate Cove, and it has the famous hook stereotype of a buccaneer. He has no idea what this thing looks like and he doesn't want to know.

He lowers his pistol and points it at the floor in anticipation for the machine to come in, but at that moment he hears something thunder into the office with enough force to cause the floor to shake. He tries to turn, but he feels something slam into the side of his head.

His vision blurs as he collapses onto the floor. His brain is aching and fireworks are going off in front of his eyes as he struggles to stay awake. He hasn't felt this much pain since he was hit with an old iron pipe, is that what got him this time?

No, he looks up and his eyes widen. Standing right above him is Freddy the Bear, the light of the office shinning behind the robot's head, making it nearly impossible to see the face. However, the teeth are showing, but it doesn't look like a smile, more like a grimace, as if it's angry. The bear's arm shot out and wraps its claws around Mike's left ankle, making him gasp in pain as he feels four deep cuts being made.

The bear turns and starts dragging Mike with him, heading out the way it had come, but at that moment the guard's mind started working again. As well as his memory.

He flicks his head back just in time to make sure it's still there, the ace under his sleeve, or rather under the table.

With a grunt of desperation, he pulls himself back from the bear's metal grip, he slid back only a few centimeters, but that's all he needed. He stretches for the weapon before yanking it off of its restrains, causing the loosely secured wires to pop off as well as he sits up.

The bear has turn around at this point, and Mike is sure he sees the eyes widen as it came face to face with the wrong end of the guard's shotgun.

Mike takes off the safety and pulls the trigger.

The gun kicks Mike's shoulder as he feels it relieving itself of its deadly payload as it aims for the animatronic before it. However the straight path is interrupted at the last possible second, Mike is sure he feels the pellets leaving the barrel when a hook suddenly appears out of nowhere and clips itself to the body of the gun and points it upwards.

There is a resounding bang as the gun goes off and fragments of the roof drops from the release of the firepower. Mike is momentarily disorientated as he looks at the hook and sees what it's attached to.

In that mere second, he felt like screaming, but instead he sucked in a quick breath of air. The thing before him was an animatronic, but to say that it was jacked up would be an understatement. He took in its figure quickly, triangular ears on its head, red fur and a short nub where the tail should have been, in that instant if he had to guess, it looked like a fox. Its glowing yellow eyes was vicious and had a level of horror he could quite understand, but that wasn't all. It had a large hole where the chest is, allowing him to see all the inner gears and wiring as they moved and tense with each action the fox took. The visible joints are rusted, the fur looked like it had actually begun to decay and its jaw was flapping around as if it had been unhinged. That was the worst part though, the teeth in its mouth were dirty, it had brown and red crust littering its sharp fangs. This is it; this is the animatronic that bites, the one that had killed.

With it so close and his level of training, he did the first thing that came to mind. The hand that was holding the butt of the rifle, his right one, let go of the shotgun and flatten itself as it flew towards the robot's neck.

There is a deep clang and the bot's head bobbed a little, but there was no lasting effect, not for the Fox anyway.

Mike yelp as he feels his whole arm starting to throb as he bereted himself for forgetting the giant fuzzy animals are still mechanical on the inside.

There is a loud wham and Mike feels himself lifting off the ground and he flew backwards. His body crashes through the widow and he lands with heavy gasp as he falls back onto the floor, causing a layer of dust to go fly into the air.

He moans as he tries to figure out what had happened. One of the animatronics must have socked him in the head and it had enough force to throw him like a rag doll. Now his head really starts to hurt, it'll be just his luck he got a concussion from the blow he had got earlier, but now he wouldn't be surprised if his skull had cracked open. His body aches from having to go through a window and though the adrenaline was still flowing, he can still feel the blood slowly pumping out of his ankle. After a moment he notes that his back is starting to itches and feels strange, he groans as he wonders if that there are glass fragments embedded within the skin now.

This can't be happening, he has never endured such a beating since his last childhood brawls, but even then at least he was able to put up a fight, here he was getting hammered and from the looks of it, his attackers aren't even fazed.

He groans as he places his hands on either side of himself and pushes himself up. He blinks a little so that his eyes can adjust to the bad lighting, but when it does, he freezes.

Squatting no more than a foot away from Mike is the rabbit, Bonnie. However at the moment it looks far from being threatening. It's positioned right under the window it was watching him through earlier, only now its knees are pressed up to its chest, the ears were hanging low and it's eyes were shut tight while its hands are pressed against the side of its head as if it was trying to hide.

As soon as he took all this in though, it opens its eyes.

They stare at one another, but more than that, they are gazing into each other's eyes. He wasn't sure what it was he was expecting to see, but it wasn't this. The orbs that he sees are a bright brown and they look almost…kind.

They both flinch at the sound of shattering glass and patter of objects falling to the floor that are originating from the office. Mike glances in that direction and his eyes widen.

Freddy and Foxy has lifted up the desk and has spilled everything on it to the ground, computers and fans and all. He should have anticipated it, but he is caught off guard with what happened next; they threw it.

The metal desk flew through the broken window and towards the security guard. With pure adrenaline as his only source of energy, Mike rolls to his side as the desk slams against the wall, breaking the plaster to break and cracks to appear.

Mike is breathing hard after seeing the power the Animatronics possess; they can easily crush him without any trouble. The desk is practically implanted into the side of the building, it blocks him from Bonnie and the door, but the window is still open and Freddy is already advancing towards it.

He glances back at the desk and sees what could quite possible save him. The force of the impact has jarred the desk's inner making, which in turn had broken the drawer's lock and allows it to slid outwards. Said drawer is now partially open, allowing him to put his fingers inside.

He had lost his guns, but he had one weapon left.

He pulls out the grenade and without wasting any time, he pulls the pin, yank off the firing mechanism and hurls the tiny projectile at his workplace.

He trips over himself as he forces himself to stand while sprinting at the same time, trying to distance himself from the office. The explosion won't be that powerful, but it has enough kick to send shrapnel flying.

"Bomb!"

That caught him off guard while also causing him to freeze up. That sounded like a young girl screaming. He looks over his shoulder, who just-

He is blinded as the darkness and the shadows disappear in one split second as his world glows a bright orange. He turns away, but he can still see the light and feels his skin being peppered by multiple fragments as he falls flat on the floor again.

This is proving too much for him; shrapnel, hand grenades, bullets, walking killing machines; he should have packed a bazooka if he knew this going to happen. However, now his mind is alive with anxiety, he heard someone, a woman or maybe even a girl speak. But where are they? Where did they come from?

Slowly, he eases himself back up and looked back at the smoking wreckage behind him. It looks like the tiny security station had collapsed inward on itself like a stack of cards. There is hardly anything left, a small spark flickers every so often while a mist hangs over the area. The wooden area has been blackened and chipped, leaving it looking considerably weaken. However despite its gloomy look, Mike took hope; no sign of the animatronics.

He couldn't help but chuckle lightly to himself as he eventually sits up and stands while leaning against the wall. Out of all the things he has done, this is, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing he has ever done. Fighting off robotic monsters from a children's pizzeria. At the moment he doesn't care he had probably destroyed about thousands of dollars' worth of robots, let alone property damage, but all that he knows for a fact is that he is alive and healthy.

With a still goofy grin on his blacken and scraped face, he turns and slowly starts to take his leave. He is halfway down the maintenance corridor when he hears a mighty thud. He looks over his shoulder and his eyes bulge.

Slowly pushing their way up through the destroyed office are four large bulky shadows, rising from the ashes like zombies from the night of the living freaking dead.

"You're kidding me," Mike growls before he turns and takes off as fast as he could.

Normally he would have easily hustled it from the security station to the door in a heartbeat, but his left foot isn't working, is it from Freddy grabbing it? Did it cut more than skin or was his bone broken? He has no time to investigate as he books it down the hall. He is breathing heavily and he feels light headed, but he is backstage now. He trips and slips across disregarded parts and props as he hits the curtain and tears his way through it.

He is in the main theatre where the animatronics are supposed to be, and from where he is standing he can see the door. It stands with the sky visible along with the stars, shinning like a beacon of hope.

There is a rhythmic pounding coming up on Mike's rear, he knows one of them is upon him. He jumps to the floor and lands on his hurting foot hard, causing him to release a steady stream of profanity. With painstaking slowness, he limps forward, but he is too late.

He hears the pounding on the stage before it went quite. He dared himself to look back just in time to see something large and yellow land half a foot in front of him.

He jumps back with shout of pain due to his battered body as he takes in his next opponent. It's the chicken with the 'Let's Eat' bib, only now it looks more evil than before, and the bullet holes in its chest and head didn't help either.

The animatronic raises its hands and moves towards Mike, but he isn't ready to go down, not death by chicken anyway. He grabs the closest thing he could find, which happens to be a chair, and swings. It shatters into different pieces upon contact and sends the bot stumbling into a table, causing it to break in half and send the previously set party decorations into the air.

The booming noise returns and Mike turns to see Freddy the bear coming right at him from the stage as well. Looking around frantically, Mike bent down and pick up two of the smashed chair's legs, one in each hand and holds them at the ready like they were swords.

The bear pays this no heed as it charges at the security guard. Mike waits for it to come closer before he steps to the side like a bull fighter. Freddy turns to correct its movement, but in that time, the guard takes a swing and slams the piece of wood against the bear's skull, sending splinters into the air. The bear is stun, giving Mike time to shove against it. With a lot of effort and a single grunt, the bear trips over a fallen chair and lands on its bottom. It looks up right as Mike hits it again with the other leg, causing the bear's eyes to roll a little in their socket.

With the bear and chicken done, at least a while, Mike tries again to reach the door. This time he puts a little hop into his step and he skips to the entrance way, doing his best to keep momentum and keeping weight off his injured limb, all the while thinking, almost there, almost there.

His eyes are glued to the doors as he lumbers towards it, he could just feel the nice cool evening air gracing his burning body, but he is snatched away from it; literally. All the air are pressed out of his lungs and he feels himself leaving the ground again as something hairy tackles him from the side and they spiral through the air. They ran into a rope barrier and went through another set of drapes before making contact with the surface again.

Mike struggles to get to his feet as he looks around. They are in Pirate Cove, him and whoever has attacked him now. He isn't too surprised when he sees that it's the damaged fox from earlier, the one who actually has the looks of a killer on its broken down face.

Its eyes glows brightly and its jaw clanks together, causing Mike to shiver, out of all the robots from earlier, this one is more lively and a lot more dangerous. He is tired, beaten and may very well be suffering from internal bleeding at this point, but he readies himself for another bout as he rolls his shoulder and holds his hands in front of him. The bot has sharpen claws on its hand, feet, a hook where its left hand should have been and fangs in its flopping mouth, he needs to avoid those areas as much as possible.

The fox in turn seems to be sizing him up as well, as if it's trying to decide how to best approach before it finally makes a whirling sound from within, maybe its own version of a growl before it leaps forward.

Mike curses himself again; he was preparing himself to fight a man when this thing is more beast than man like he anticipated. It slams into his frame again and they crash onto the floor.

He gasps at the amount of agony that is coursing through his body as his opponent looks down upon him. It has a gleam in its eyes as if it sees it has victory and lowers its head towards him.

At this point, all that the guard can see for sure is the teeth and the lowering jaw. Panic ceases him and he uses that for one last burst of energy as he lashes out. With an open palm, he slams it against the chin and causes the head to go up, yet at the same time…it didn't.

His mouth drops open at what he sees, there's something, a shadowy silhouette of a lower mouth and what looks like…actual fur covering it?

The sight is too bizarre and unexpecting for him. He has no idea how long he stares until he hears a familiar thundering sound and he looks up.

Standing over him and the fox is Bonnie, who holds a baseball bat in its hand. Realizing what is going to happen, he tries to wriggle free, but the fox keeps a strong hold on him, one hand on his shoulder and its hook pressing down on the other, threatening to tear through skin should he try to struggle. The bunny raises its blunt weapon and Mike grits his teeth for a world of pain, but it didn't come.

The rabbit is just standing there, staring, is it having second thoughts?

Mike's glimmer of hope is destroyed when the fox growls, raises its hand and punches Mike in the face. His head slams backwards and hits the floor, making him groggy as he watches the fox, tear the bat away from Bonnie with an agitated swipe before looking back down at Mike.

With its hook, the Fox reset the mask, hiding that second jaw from view before it raises the bat and brings it down hard. Mike saw the club coming down and he hears a crack before he is blinded by pain again, but this time, his whole mind went blank and he was unable to keep going. Reluctantly, he retreats within himself as he falls into his enforced slumber.

**Ok, this is your last chance to vote; it will determine the official genre of the story and help me to know how the next chapter will be played out. Also, I had technical difficulties uploading this, so if there is something out of place you know why. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'm sorry for the long wait, I'm getting ready for the next stage in my life so further updates on this and my other stories will be slow and it'll take a while. Sorry for the inconvenience but thank you for sticking with me this long, three chapters and over a thousand views alone, that means a lot.**

**Also, polls will be closing soon and I've changed the genre of the story since a romance for a female Foxy has won.**

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**Four**

Mike slowly feels himself coming back from the blackness, but man did he hurt.

Years of training strain against his brain as he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from groaning from the agony he is feeling. He is hurting all over, his back, his front and more importantly his head. He briefly wonders if parts of his body had been scorched from the previous explosion.

His mind suddenly freezes as he remembers what had happened. He was waiting for a lunatic to come barging in, but instead he was met with four fully operating and deadly iron robots in animal suits. They fought and it ended with him being beaten, literally. The last thing he remembers was being clubbed in the head with a baseball bat.

That explains his throbbing head, but now where was he?

Slowly, in case that something is watching him, his eyelid slowly lifts up halfway and he scans the room while feigning being unconscious. He couldn't see, it was still dark so he may have been out for an hour or two or for all he knew it could have just been thirty minutes. Still, his eyes scuttle over the area, but finds he is in an unknown location. Was he taken out of the pizzeria? Or is he just in an unexplored room? He'll go with the latter when he realizes that the place has the same looks as that of Freddy's, as well as the faint smell of pizza that is lingering in the air.

The wall is musky, cobwebs everywhere, furniture that looks like it was bought fifty years ago and the faint aroma of moth balls was in the air, this alone proves how long the place has gone unattended. Yet there are also shelves, boxes and tools there as well, most of which is covered in dirt and rust while the smell of oil fills his nostrils. After a moment, he deduces that he must be in the maintenance room.

His bones suddenly chills when he realizes something else; he is lying on his back on a raised wooden slab in the middle of the room like Frankenstein. He considers moving, but remains still as he tries to detect if he is alone in the room or not. He forces his buzzing ears to listen for signs of life, and after a while he got something.

Standing probably just a few feet away from him are people, or what sounds like people. There is the occasional foot step, some talking that he can barely make out and the clanging of metal as it's shifted around. Finally after a minute, his hearing comes back and he is able to make out some of the words that are being said.

"All I'm saying is maybe we should leave," voices a feminine voice that has some sort of accent, sounding like something from Europe…Romanian…or maybe Norwegian.

"No," now Mike's interest has risen, this person sounds familiar, but where had he heard it before? "We have always been safe here, where else could we go, and furthermore, how will we be able to travel without attracting attention?"

There is a sudden thud and Mike guesses it may have been someone hitting a table with enough force to split wood.

"I don't know," exasperates the woman from before, "but these endoskeletons are getting more and more dangerous, especially these last two, they had guns!"

Last two…Well he was one, the other they must be talking about has to be the federal agent that came before he did. And what did she mean by endoskeletons? Is she talking about him? Is that code for something?

"Let's not think about anything drastic just yet," this is a new voice, another woman, and again, she sounds familiar as well, "let's just deal with one problem at a time."

"Time!" suddenly explodes the other woman, "We are already out of time, it's almost six and as soon as Fazbear shows up, sees the mess and notices the endoskeleton is no longer here or functioning within a suit, then what do you think he's going to do? He's been looking for a good excuse to get rid of us for years and now he has one."

"Well…ok," the second woman says rather timidly, "but maybe we can try and tell him it was the endoskeleton's fault."

There's a heavy sigh and the man started talking again, "I'm afraid that won't do. He'll think we're malfunctioning since we have never tried communicating directly with him before."

"Well then let's do it!" the accented woman cuts in, "I'm done playing charades anyways and being treated like garbage."

"I'm not sure if that will do us any good," comments the male voice who must be the leader, "it just may lead us to more trouble down the road," he pauses as he gives a grunt while the shrinking of metal can be heard followed by a deep groan.

"Are you alright Freddy?" the second woman asks, but Mike just about froze.

_Did she just say Freddy? No, no, it just had to be a messed up coincidence_.

"I am fine Chica, thank you," replies the one named Freddy to Mike's general horror.

_Chica_?

There is a snort and the still unidentified woman speaks, "well I for one got to say, I'm actually glad we have spare suits here, how much more do we have left anyway?"

"Just one complete suit each and a few random pieces from some of the older models," reports Chika, "We have a nice dog suit if you wish to try Foxy."

He ignore the tease and instead focuses on the name. Foxy…could that have been the fourth animatronic that had attacked him earlier? It would match the description of what he had seen earlier.

"No," replies the one named Foxy with venom in her voice, "I may be an old weathered sea-dog, but I'm not stooping that low, especially since I'm the only one around here who still has some real teeth in her bite."

Teeth? Bite? All of this coming from Foxy, his primary suspect for the bite of '87? Mike wouldn't be surprised if he had broken out in a cold sweat, he hopes none of his captors will notice.

"You shouldn't be so hard on Bonnie," chides Chika, "you know how she is; she hates violence."

"Even when an endoskeleton is trying to kill us?" demands Foxy.

_'Kill them? They're the ones who came after me!'_ Mike thought furiously, not really noticing that he accepted who these guys say they are. There's no way they can be the animatronics, they're talking like regular people and from the sound of it, they also have quite a large attitude difference compared to each other.

"Even then," Chika is silent for a moment before asking, "Do you think we should try and stuff this one? If it doesn't come back online it'll just upset her."

Chills doesn't even come close to explaining the feeling that erupted all along Mike's spine as he thought of the disgusting picture he had seen of a man being stuffed into a suit.

"Why not?" questions Freddy, missing Mike's small recoil, "maybe there's a chance it will come back on, and you know how Bonnie is always wanting to make new friends."

Ok, he has no options now, he has to get out while he still can, but can he make it out the door and out of the pizzeria? Does he have the strength or stamina? Does he really have a choice?

"Do you know what she is going to pick this time?" demands Foxy, "I hope she still isn't planning on using another duck suit."

"No," answers Chika, "she wants to try the pig outfit this time."

_A_ _freaky_ _pig_!? That seals the deal.

Mike's eyes flew open and he sits up straight on the table. He doesn't look at his adductors as he tries to roll off the table, which proved to be his undoing.

A strong hand grabs the collar of his shit and yanks him back until he falls with a thud on the table again. He tries to get up, but someone put their arms around his neck and over his head in a devastating headlock. Out of instinct he grabs the limbs in an attempt to break free, but is surprised to feel fur and metal over lapping one another, what is this? He tries breaking the hold, but it soon becomes clear that whoever is holding him literally has arms of steel. The room is shrouded in darkness and though his eyes have adjusted, he couldn't properly see who it is that has him.

He then kicks out with his legs, gaining leverage on the table and attempts to lift his body up, but his assailant hangs on tightly. It's like trying to lift a boulder by this point.

Something grabs his legs, bends them back which causes his legs to buckle and lands back on the slab before feeling the same hands pinning his lower body to the table hard. Pressure begins to build up against them and he has the sensation that the bones are on the verge of being crushed.

Feeling an ounce of panic, he starts wriggling his body, maybe he can slip out from between them. That hope is gone when another person leaps forward and hugs his torso, applying the same amount of force as others, causing him to gasp as his lungs struggle to get some air.

His ears are pounding with blood, but over the din of noise they are making he makes out some words being said.

"Keep it down!" shouts Freddy.

"I'm trying!" grumbles Chika.

"Bonnie!" screams Foxy whose voice is the closest and echoes within Mike's head, "Hurry and get in here!"

"Coming!" shouts the fourth companion who possess a rather girlish sound to it, but Mike wasn't all that focus on this.

All that he was trying to do is not pass out due to his wounds and receding oxygen. Already he feels his vision fading and he is sure if he closes his eyes then it will be for the last time in his life.

There is a multitude of thundclaps being sounded and out of the corner of his eyes, Mike sees a shadow rushing forward, holding something massive in its hands.

"I've got the suit!" announces the voice of Bonnie, "it's all wired and everything!"

"Ok," Freddy says, "get it ready, we are going to try and pick it up and then-"

"Wait!" Mike gasps out, but gags when he feels the one he guesses to be Foxy squeezing his windpipe.

"Shut up," she growls into his ear, but he continue to struggle while trying to get some air at the same time.

"Foxy you're hurting it!" cries Bonnie.

"Just get the suit ready lass and we'll handle the details!" Foxy shoots back.

Mike forces his body to relax and put more strength into his arms, pulling Foxy's crushing arms down a bit.

"Wait," Mike says breathlessly, "please, I-" he is caught off as Foxy redoubles her effort in trying to strangle him. Will they kill him first and then stuff him? Or are they just going to slam him right into it, forcing him to feel every gear cut his flesh while his organs and bones caves in to form a nasty pulp?

"Foxy, I really think-"

"Bonnie just be quiet and let us handle this!" roars Foxy.

"Don't start on her!" shouts back Chika, unaware that her grip on Mike has loosen.

"She needs to learn!" Foxy says back, "this thing won't hesitate to kill her and needs to be either destroyed or reprogrammed, at least this way it has a chance and she'll like it."

"Sorry," Bonnie says in a meek whispery voice that actually sounds like a hurtful tone.

"See what you have done?" demands Chika, "tell her your sorry and-"

"Girls the endoskeleton!" Freddy tries to warn as Mike pushes himself down a little now that his torso has been released, slouching up his body so he can escape Foxy grasp for a while as he sucks in some air and shouts, "I'M NOT A ENDO-SKELETON!"

All movement has ceased and Mike could feel multiple eyes are on him as he tries to breathe so that he can have the energy to do…whatever it is he is going to do next. That dream is squashed however when Foxy wraps her arms around Mike again and squeezes his neck.

"Foxy stop!" Chika calls out, but this time with a horrified voice.

"Chika don't be naïve," Foxy growls, "its lying like all the others."

Mike started to wrestle even more, he has no idea what is going on, or what it is a endoskeleton is exactly, but this new development has obviously caused a stir among his captors, there has to be a way he can turn this all in his favor.

"Foxy," Freddy suddenly speaks, "perhaps we should let it-"

"No!" Foxy screeches, "if we let it go then it will go back to where it came from and we will all be in danger. We have to detain it."

"B-b-but what if it's really is human?" whimpers Bonnie who starts to sniffle a little.

"It's. A. Endoskeleton." Foxy says through gritted teeth, "they tried this trick hundreds of times."

"True, but they never fought back like this one," Freddy points out, "and it was here earlier, remember? If it is an endoskeleton, why had it stuck around when it saw us?"

"Maybe it just likes Chika's pizza, I don't care," Foxy snaps, "it had tried to destroy us so we need to destroy it."

"F-Freddy," Bonnie says in a tearful voice, "how can we tell if it is an endoskeleton?"

"Oh please Bonnie," Foxy says, but this time with a hint of caring in her tone, "not now, just trust me, it is an endoskeleton, have I ever steered you wronged?"

There is a long uncomfortable silence before Chika speaks up, "well they really are like humans, how _can_ we tell?"

"Don't" Foxy hisses softly to the person holding Mike's mid-section, "you're just going to make Bonnie feel worse."

Mike increases his struggles and attempts to coax words out of his mouth, but all that he is managing so far is spittle and unfinished curses.

"There is a way of telling," Freddy carefully says, "but in order to know for sure…" he sighs deeply before saying, "Foxy, remove your arm."

Instead relief Mike feels his throat being squished with renewed power.

"Are you out of your mind!?" Foxy snarls, "He'll come at us again!"

"Foxy," Freddy says with a tight line in his voice, making Mike wonder if he is going to be in the middle of a brawl, "we need to make sure this is truly a endoskeleton otherwise we're be in trouble."

"We will be in trouble if we let him go," Foxy argues.

"I just said remove your paw from his mouth so he can speak," Freddy says patiently.

"Why?" asks Foxy, "we aren't going to play twenty questions are we?"

"Foxy," Freddy finally sighs, "just let him speak."

There is a growl, but Mike gasps when the pressure on his throat is relieved and he gulps in some air. He wonders if he should try and flee, but he rules that out when he feels his legs and chest still being held down. He has to play by these things rules for now.

He tries to move his head so he can see who he is talking to, but the one known as Foxy keeps his head pressed down. Though he can still roll his eyes in his skull, he can't identify these people, he can just barely make out the shape of Foxy, but she is in the shadows, only allowing him to partially make out her humanoid form.

"Can you hear me?" the voice of Freddy asks.

After gulping in some more air, Mike finally breathes out in a near whisper, "Yes."

There is a moment of silence as if they are barely registering his answer before Freddy speaks again.

"Listen to me very closely;" he says slowly as if he is speaking to a child, "we need to be sure that you are human."

"I am hu-" Mike is choked off when the arm around his neck strengthens again.

"Don't speak unless spoken to," Foxy's voice growl.

"Foxy," Freddy says in a weary tone to which his captor breathes heavily before loosening her grip.

He hears Freddy breathes steadily before saying, "in order for us to tell if you are human or not, do you have a scar?"

Mike blinks for a moment before whispering, "What?"

"Do you have a scar?" Freddy repeated, "something that you can show? If you're an endo-skeleton, your skin won't be fully healed and will reveal your inner makings."

Mike have no idea what is being said but he is able to sum it up; he needs to show them a scar otherwise he's going to be stuffed. Seeing no other way out of his predicament, Mike slows his breathing and tries to remains clam. If he is going to show them a scar, it might as well be worth wild.

He calmly breathes before looking into the darkness where he guesses that Freddy is standing.

"On my right arm, upper bicep, there is a wound and-" he is cut off when Foxy curls an arm around his throat again. Following his instructions, he feels someone grabs the sleeve of his shirt and pulls it up. As the person does so, Mike takes note how warm his captor's hands are. They feel almost…fuzzy? Were they wearing gloves, if so, why these pairs?

A moment later he feels his arm exposed right before pressure was put back on his throat and he wheezes again.

"Liar," snaps Foxy whose mouth sounds close to his ear, "that's a tattoo, not a scar."

"Look…" Mike gurgles, "Look…closer…"

Out of nowhere, a shape takes form in front of Mike and leans forward. It appears to have a humanoid form, but then Mike notices its head may be round like a person, but there are two smaller circles on top of its head. What kind of a hat was the person wearing?

Though close, the shape stays in the shadows as it peers at the tattoo.

Floating out of the darkness was the voice of Bonnie, "what does it say?" she asks, "Is it Chinese?"

The shape looks up at Mike, almost as if it's asking Mike the same question. Mike in turn pats Foxy's arms, to which the shape's head nods. There is another agitated sigh before Mike is allowed more air so that he could speak. In that moment though, he also guesses that the guy in the shadow must be Freddy, the one giving the orders.

With that in mind, and knowing Freddy is probably the only reason he is still alive, he replies slowly yet also respectfully.

"It's Cherokee Indian," he says, "and it's pronounced, 'Cur-a-hee,' it means 'stand alone'."

"Really?" asks a rather mystified Chica.

Mike merely shrugs, "I don't really know, I think it was mistranslated, I got this when I was a kid so I didn't really know much about it."

"It's still not a scar," Foxy points out again.

Mike rolls his eyes, "just look closely at it."

The figure did indeed stare at the design for a moment before announcing, "I see…something."

"It's a knife wound," Mike says matter of factly, "got a tattoo over it so people wouldn't notice."

"Why?" asks Foxy suspiciously.

Mike shrugs, "just thought it would look ugly."

He only hears a growl in return. What are these things?

There is a long uncomfortable silence that stretches on for minutes on end. The shadowed figure pulls back and looks behind it before looking in the direction of Foxy before finishing by looking down at Mike again.

"You are human," he says in a solemn voice as if he is speaking Mike's eulogy.

The man in turn swallows hard. Was that a good thing or a bad one?

There was a shuddering breath before Chica speaks up in a quivering voice, "Were…were they all humans?"

"No," Foxy snaps, but sounding more like she is trying to make herself believe her own words, "we know the first one was an endo-skeleton and…and…"

"A-a-are we m-m-murders?" Bonnie seems to be on the verge of tears now.

What's going on? They are trying to see if he is human, they thought he was an endo-skeleton like others before and it's apparent that they may have indeed killed before. Accidently though, they all sound as if they are about to go hysterical, but he is more afraid of Foxy and Freddy. Neither were sniveling or breathing hard, making him wonder what they are feeling.

"What have we done?" Freddy asks.

"Nothing," answers Foxy sharply, "we were attacked, it was only reasonable we defended ourselves."

"But F-Foxy," Chica voices, "we should have known, we should have been sure before…before…"

Mike makes his presence known again as he gives a cough. He feels multiple eyes on him and remembering that he is outnumbered and outgunned he chooses his next few words carefully.

"Listen," he says softly, "I know this may be a…high stress time for you all, but seeing how I proved I'm human, could you let me back up...please?"

There is no sudden movements for a while until Freddy sighs.

"Foxy," Freddy said tiredly, "release him."

"But-"

"Release him," Freddy repeats with an edge to his tone now.

Carefully, Mike feels the hands release their hold on him and backs away. Only Foxy lingers a for an extra moment before letting him go as well. Once fully released, Mike cautiously sits up and looks around.

He is in a dark room that he could scarcely make out, but he could see a multitude of cardboard boxes, benches, tools lying in clutters. He can see the outline of a door and what appears to be a faint blue light, the sun perhaps? The final thing he takes note of are the four figures surrounding him.

They are humanoid, but as he looks each one of them over, their shadowy appearance reveals that these people aren't all that they seem. The largest of them, Freddy, has a two small circles on the top of his head, almost like strange lopsided ears. Behind him is another person who is shorter, slightly stout and with something protruding from its mouth like a muzzle, but much more pointed. Standing in the rear is someone quivering while holding what appears to be a large manikin until Mike sees the triangular ears and snout, the supposed pig suit he came close to being stuffed in. The one holding it has two long strips on the top of its head before coming back down alongside its shoulder almost as if they were…ears…bunny ears.

Two small ears on one, a pointed point that could pass for a beak and two longer ears on the top of the thirds head…just like the animatronics. That would mean…

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Mike looks over his shoulder and lost all feeling within his body.

Standing behind him, so close that he can plainly see her, is the one known as Foxy. Her appearance has entranced him beyond physical or even mental reasoning. She has the body of a dancer, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, has lean legs, muscular arms and her eyes...her eyes are a captivating brown that reminds him of melted chocolate while a black eye patch rests against her forehead. This alone is enough to get any man's attention, but that's not what caught him off guard. Sure a small part of him was interested by this feminine beauty, captivated even, but a feeling of horror and disbelief courses though him as he finally registers what is before him.

Her eyes may look lovely, but they are filled with malice and are glowing, literally, glowing. She doesn't have a mouth, she has a snout that juts out a little with sharp canines visible as she grits them in what could only be describe as rage. She has two ears popping out of the top of her skull and is swerving back and forth like satellite dishes trying to pick up a signal. Her entire body, from the top of her head to her bare feet is covered in fur, red fur that border along the line of orange. He couldn't see her skin, but his eyes gravitate to her hands which are placed on her hips, they too are covered and with pointed claws attached. There is movement behind her, he glances at it and feels his mouth dropping. It was a large bright bushy tail, puffed up like a real fox and is currently swishing back and forth at an amazing rate.

She is Foxy, she really is a fox!

There is a low rumble of a growl that made its way from her chest and up to her throat before speaking in her accented voice, "What are you staring at hotshot?"

Mike couldn't respond for a moment, his eyes are still huge, still unbelieving before his mind did the only thing it could do under extreme circumstances. Mike feel his body shudder once before he fell back on the table he was being held captive on and against all reason in his mind, his eyeballs rolled back into their socket and he lost consciousness.

For the first time in his life, Mike Schmidt had passed out.

**I decided to split this in two since I figured it's been a while since I last updated. I don't know when it will be completed, nut hopefully it won't be too long. I've been real busy lately with my life and I hope you can all understand and be patience. **

**Sorry if this seemed rushed, just wanted to get it done and updated.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies for prolonged delay and if this seems short, hope you enjoy. I am unsure when the next update will be out, sorry for the uncertainty**

**Five**

"Great job Foxy," a sarcastic voice says, "you killed him."

"Don't say that!" a meek voice squeaks with terror, "W-we couldn't have…h-he can't be-"

"Bonnie it's going to be ok," a much more rougher voice tries to reassure the frighten speaker, "besides, it's not my fault he's a-"

"Quiet," a fourth voice interrupts, "he's just passed out…look, he's coming around."

Finally Mike's brain started to reboot, informing him of what is happening, or at the very least confirming that he isn't dead…yet.

He groans, both in pain and in humiliation. For crying out loud, he's a combat veteran, he's been on bloody battlefields and seen the worst side of humanity. Yet he faints at the sight of…of…

Mike's eyes shoots open and he sits up straight. This was a mistake as its caused build up fluids in the back of his throat to go down the wrong tube and he doubles over in a coughing fit.

"Are you ok Mr.?" the same concern voice questions.

Mike waves his hand in the air as a reassuring sign as he fights to regain control of his breathing, all the while thinking. There was no way all of that was real, that he was talking to a humanoid fox and that she is a children's entertainer…but still.

Slowly, he blinks his eyes open and looks up. much to his dismay he sees a familiar face next to him, and she isn't happy.

"What took you so long hotshot?" Foxy demands with fire in her eyes as she crosses her arms and the giant tail flicking once more.

His eyes look her up and down once more, reconfirming what he is seeing. The fur, the tail, the ears, and the eyes. She's freaking real!

He feels his throat going dry as he tries to process this.

"Foxy don't be rude."

Mike twists around and nearly faints again.

Standing on his other side is something that is fluffy and yellow, but he strains his eyes to better make out the shape who had asked the question. The fluff isn't fur like Foxy's but something more protruding and fluttery, it took him a moment before realizing that they are feathers. The person in question isn't fat not skinny, more of being somewhere in the middle. Her feet are bare as well but they look to be orange and to his disbelief they have talons instead of toe nails. Her legs are orange as well but she is also wearing a skirt and a pink t-shirt. The face…the face is hard to make out at first but eventually he got it. There is a beak, real live beak on her face and the feathers cover her entire cranium but some sticks out on top like a kind of substitute for hair. Judging from the near tell-tale shape and the sound of the voice, this one is female as well. She has something that looks close to being…pink eyes?

As soon as the initial shock is over, he realizes that she too is standing as if she is nervous. One foot behind the other, hands twisting together and her eyes occasionally looking into his before darting away again as if she is embarrassed or maybe even afraid.

Movement in the corner of his eye makes him turn and beheld another odd sight. There is another person standing in the dark, he looks like a black shape with lightly colored hands and feet until Mike realizes the person is wearing dark clothing on some parts of his body. Slacks covers his legs and a vest covers his torso while his arms and feet are bare. Mike's skin crawls at the use of the last word. If these…things are anything like the restaurant mascots then that means that this one is…that he might be…

The person lumbers forward and Mike realizes he is a full head taller than him. And his face…it's covered in fur, brown fur. His ears are round and are on top of his head, he has a snout like Foxy, complete with razor sharp teeth that are lightly poking out. His eyes are a deep brown, they look like they have sunk into his skull and yet…they look kind and maybe even…sad? He also notes there is a small patter of footprints following the bear's and a ever shifty shadow behind him confirms that there is still someone hiding behind the large leader, the rabbit if he remembers correctly.

The person then gives a hefty sighs as he looks Mike up and down as if he is searching for something.

"I…must apologize," the bear said as he bows his head, "we didn't…I had no idea…"

"Wait," Mike says as he holds up his hand and says, "Please just…tell me what is happening."

He looks around at the assembled animal like people, minus the one hiding behind the bear, and asks, "What is happening? Who are you?"

"Who are we?" Foxy asks as her arms lowers only for her hands to curl into fists, "we should be asking you that. This is our home and you nearly destroyed it!"

"I was defending myself!" Mike answers with a fire to match the fox's. He was bruised, cut and was nearly stuffed into a metallic suit, his mentality is barely holding up as is. Being shouted at by a humanoid fox isn't helping either.

"Enough," the Bear states firmly, "Why do we not begin again by simply telling each other our names alright?"

Nobody answers, then again nobody disagrees for that matter.

Mike doesn't dare say a word. For all he knows this could be some form of a trick. What if this was some kind of messed up psychological synch test set up by his agency to see if he cracked. Only thing is if this was a test then it has to be the most expensive and most stupidly elaborate one he has ever seen.

A sigh tears itself away from the bear, looking more agitated than tired.

"Alright then, I'll go," he clears his throat before saying, "hello, I'm Freddy Fazbear."

'_Fazbear? Really_?' Mike has very little doubt that in some way this bear was related to the owner.

"This is Chica," he gestures towards the chicken who gives a small smile and tries to wave.

"You've already met Foxy," he says with a nod towards the fox who gives a snarl of acknowledgment.

"This one behind me is Bonnie," he says as he looks over his shoulder at the cowering figure, "she's…shy at the moment."

In that instant however, a purple head slowly poke around Freddy's girth and a green eye looks directly into his blue ones. They were glowing like the others, but hers seems to have a certain wide eyed curiosity about them…almost like a child's.

"So…"

Mike lightly jumps at this and looks back at the bear.

"…so…" Mike says in turn.

"So…?"

"So…?"

"Oh for the love of-" Foxy suddenly grabs Mike by his shirt collar and shook him aggressively.

"Who are you and who sent you!" she roars in his face.

Mike has faced many threats in his life. Gang members, terrorists, and even mafia bosses, but in this one incident Foxy scared him more than all of his past opponents combined. The deep burning fury in her orange eyes, the angry snarl her mouth is twisted into and the rows of teeth weren't helping. Mike weighed about two hundred pounds but Foxy is all but lifting him from his seat and it seems she is pulling him closer and closer to her mouth.

Terror seizes him and he makes ready to deliver a blow to her neck to sever the connection when Foxy is jerked backwards and Mike is released, causing him to land back on the bench.

"Foxy enough!" Freddy roars at the Fox, actually causing some dust to fall from the ceiling as he stands between her and Mike. The man is unsure how to feel, grateful that Freddy won't allow Foxy to harm him, but being next to a near seven foot angry bear doesn't really calm him down that much.

Now Mike is really at a lost. What should he do? What can he do? He has never been a captive before and not to semi-friendly robots, or animals, whatever it is that they are. He is clearly weaker than they are, unless he has a weapon he doubts that he'll last more than a few minutes against one of them in an open fight.

Freddy suddenly turns his blue eyes gaze back to Mike and the grown man flinches slightly.

"I am sorry," the bear repeats in a much softer tone then when he yelled at Foxy earlier, "but you must understand you did give us a scare."

"Scare?" Mike asks incredulity as he coughs to clear his throat, "look Fazbear, I wasn't the one that was nearly stuffed in a suit alright? I was just doing my job."

"So you say," Foxy snarls but remains where she is, "then why did you have a gun?"

Mike held his hands apart before saying, "I heard the night guards kept disappearing so I decided I might as well be prepared."

The animatronics winces when he mentioned the disappearances. Looks like they're still coming to terms with what it is that they have done.

"Still," the vixen presses on, "what about the shotgun? The bomb? Where did you get those?"

"It's America," Mike answers bluntly, "you can get anything here."

Chica made a small "heh" sound but things fell quiet after that. The silence returned and Mike is beat, going from hunted-to-guest wasn't natural for him and the whack to the head wasn't helping. Neither is the fact that the people he is speaking to are giant furry robots that are acting like fully sentinel beings.

He sighs as he asks, "Alright so what's going on?"

"Pardon?" Freddy asks.

"What's the deal?" Mike demands, "Am I a prisoner, a hostage, what?"

The four animatronic falls silent as they look among each other, even Bonnie hesitantly came out behind Freddy as they look among each other.

"Should we let him go?" Chica asks.

"No!" shouts Foxy as she points an accusing finger at the human, "he has seen us, he'll tell others."

"I won't," Mike suddenly jumps in, "I promise."

She then turn her enraged gaze towards him and growls, "and we are to trust you because?"

"Come on," Mike says in exasperation as his composure breaks, "who will believe me? I'll be lucky if they don't throw me in the loony bin."

Freddy scratches his chin as he mauls it over, "True…but still," he looks directly at Mike, "We appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this, not a single soul."

Mike doesn't hesitate as he bobs his head, he'll agree to search for the lost city of Atlantis just as long as they will let him go, "Whatever, I get it, I can keep a secret, believe in me."

"Freddy," Foxy hisses, "this is too much of a risk, we should…we should just…" she looks away for a moment as if thinking of what it is exactly she wants to say.

"We should do what Foxy?" Freddy asks. Mike hopes he is saying this just because he is being considerate of others and not because he will even consider whatever it is that the Fox is thinking.

Foxy sighs as she looks up at the bear with harden eyes, "We've done it lots of times before…we should…make sure that he doesn't leave."

"No!" Mike jumps from the sudden outburst. Bonnie is in the back but he can clearly see her horror filled eyes as she looks between Freddy and Foxy.

"They...they were mistakes," she whimpers, "We shouldn't k-k-kill."

"Bonnie," Foxy suddenly becomes more sympathetic as she looks at the child of the group, "We're not doing this because we want to, but because we have to."

"We have to?" Chica asks, "since when did we have to ever do this?!" she sounds just as flustered as the Bunny did but with some maturity.

"You didn't complain before!" Foxy snaps at her.

"We didn't know they were people before!"

"Enough!" Freddy roars again as he glares at the pair, both of whom steps back from each other but with their eyes diverted, fight over for now.

Freddy sighs wearily as he looks to Mike, "Look, I know we have no right to ask this of you, and you have every right to hate us, but please," he actually puts his hands together and bows his head, "I beg for you to keep your silence, should the wrong people find us, then we will be facing a fate worse than death."

Mike isn't sure which surprised him more, the fact that the robots were begging him to keep his silence or that they knew the concepts of death. He looks at each of the animatronics in turn, but none are meeting his eyes. Foxy has her arms cross with a scowl on her muzzle as she gazes at the ground while biting on her lip. Chica is wringing her hands as she looks anywhere but in the human's direction. Bonnie is shaking slightly as she covers her face with her hands as she backs away from the commotion. Freddy keeps his silence and kept his head down as he remains in his fetal position.

Mike for his part has no idea what to do. He has to tell his superiors about this, how he found the killers and that the case is solved. The question though is how to do that without sounding absolutely crazy? That the fun loving robotic animals were the cause for the disturbance and it was all a mistake? And that ten people died as a result of this mistake? Can they take robots to court or will they be taken apart? Will that be the same as dying?

He looks at the assembled group. Freddy and Chica looks generally concerned about the matter, Foxy may have tried to kill him earlier but now he is feeling a bit of pity for her. As for Bonnie…why is it that she had to remind him of a kid?

He curses his stupidity before speaking.

"I promise I won't tell anyone," he bows his head in turn, "you have my word."

Freddy watches him closely and opens his mouth when out of nowhere a party horn is sounded and a multitude of child-like voices cheer fills the air. Mike blinks in bewilderment as he look all around but finds nothing. He turns back to the animatronics with a confused expression.

"What was that?" he asks.

Freddy chuckles nervously, "Uh…one of the previous guards thought it would be amusing to install a sort of alarm into the PA system, so there is a cheer every time it's six in the morning."

"Six?" Mike asks, "So my shift's over."

"Well it's been a…exciting first day hasn't it?" Chica asks nervously.

"It certainly has been," Mike says as he slowly stands up and looks at the assembled robots, "I'll leave, I have a lot to think about," he then points a finger at Freddy, "but when I come back later tonight, I would like an explanation."

Freddy nods his head, "Of course."

"But-"

"No Foxy," Freddy growls as he looks at the objective Fox, "he deserves an answer."

Foxy says nothing before releasing an agitated growl as she turns and stomps out of the room, her tail giving one final flick before it turned the corner. Mike stood there staring, still captivated by how lively the animatronics appears to be.

"Ok," he says slowly as he looks at the bots, "Well I guess…I shall see you next time."

The robots nod their heads, all seeming awkward. Mike doesn't blame them, how do you be friendly to a person you nearly killed?

Carefully he walks out of the room. He holds the side of his head while he keeps a hand on the wall, a little rest and medicine should help him deal with the pain, hopefully it will be gone soon. He steps over the demolished furniture, avoided the large gaping hole in the wall and finally made it to the front door. He pushes against it for a while before realizing it is still locked, causing him to fumble with his keys before pushing his way out.

The drive back to his residence was tough but do-able. There was little traffic so he was in the clear for most of the way as he drove at a slow and steady pace. He pulled to the curb, stumbled to the small building and made his way inside. He undoes his torn up burned shirt and tosses it to the floor, takes off his pants and likewise leaves it by the door. He then makes it to the bedroom where he collapses on the bed.

He breathes heavily and closes his eyes, wanting to forget all that has happened and rest even if it's for just a few minutes.

Ring!

It's never that easy. The ring continues for a full minute before Mike finally sits up and answers the phone that was placed on his bedside table.

"Yeah?" he asks, inwardly swearing if it is some kind of advertisement pitch he's going to go berserk.

"Mike? You ok?"

"McCullen?" Mike asks in turn, "Yes, I'm alive," he answers while sitting up a little as he speaks to his superior officer.

"You survived," he chuckles, "no surprise there I suppose."

"…yeah," Mike says awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"I'm assuming your cell is gone since every time I called or messaged you never replied."

Mike curses now that he realized that. If his phone wasn't destroyed then it is buried underneath rubble back at the pizzeria, "Yeah that sounds about right."

"Ok, since you're alive and back at the safe house, I'm going to assume you got our perp," McCullen speculates, "is that right?"

Mike notes he sounded a little too confident, as if he was expecting a good answer. But truthfully Mike didn't have one. It's not that he is keeping actual secrets from the agency, it's just that he doesn't have a good answer yet. Who knew he would receive a mission that came close to resembling a sort of mythical fairytale of inanimate objects becoming life like?

"Mike?" McCullen asks.

"Perp got away," answers the security guard.

There is a heartbeat of silence before McCullen asks, "You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"You didn't even get a look at the perpetrator?" McCullen asks.

"Yes, he's a slippery one," answers Mike.

McCullen sighs before saying, "You know this means you must stay on site until he is caught, right?"

"Got it boss," Mike answers, "just let me sleep on it, alright?"

"Yeah sure…great job Mike," before he could answer the phone went dead.

Mike puts the phone down and ponders for a moment. McCullen actually sounded disappointed. True not all of Mike's missions have always been successful, but even then McCullen never lost his composure, this time it cracked just a little and he heard dissapointment. Was there something he is missing? Was McCullen expecting him to wrap the case up in no time before coming back to the agency?

Too many questions and too large of a headache to handle it all at once. He releases a small groan as he lays back down, feeling beat and ready to sleep a full twenty four hours.

**5 minutes later**

Ring!

Mike moans as he answers the phone again, not for a moment wondering who it is.

"Yes?" he asks sleepily.

"WHAT HAPPENDED!" A loud voice screams.

Mike holds the phone away from his ear before bringing it back and asking, "Huh?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Now he recognizes the voice, it's his "boss" Fazbear, the real one.

"Say again?" he asks.

"GET BACK HERE!" roars the man.

"Who is this?" Mike asks to further annoy the man.

Instead there is a slam and he is left to assume that the connection was ended by either an aggressive hand or the phone was thrown against the wall.

Sighing, Mike gets up and makes his way back to the door. If he is going to continue this investigation, then he needs to make sure that he doesn't lose his job…yet.

**Lastly if you are interested in reading a good novel like story, check out Dante Frost who wrote one of my newly favorite story "The Hybrid of the Opera," it's a fantastic story of romance, mystery, humor and terror with little to no mistake in its 15 chapters. A fabulous mix of dogs taking place as humans and a rather eerie version of a ghost story. If you're a fan of classic novels then this story won't disappoint, written extremely well and no confusion at all, this story left me in awe and I hope it will have the same on you. Story is located in my favorite stories listings on my profile. **


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